The Age of Innocents
by princessozmaofoz
Summary: Jean Innocent is having a simply ghastly week. An old flame and fellow copper is back in town. A drunken colleague kisses her after she tries to save the person from themself. Oh, and the latest case has deep personal importance for Jean. AU. COMPLETE.
1. 1: Nightmares

Chapter One- Nightmares

_" And what is your verdict?" the pompous-looking judge asked the members of the jury._

_" We find the defendant 'not guilty' of the rape and murder of Amanda Smythe."_

_Inspector Jean Hampton cursed under her breath. The proof was right under their bloody noses, and the jury was still going to let the monster off._

"_However, we do find the defendant 'guilty' of the assault and attempted rape of Inspector Jean Hampton."_

_Well ,there was no way he would've been able to worm his way out of that one. Three other officers had arrived just in time to pull the bastard off of a trembling Jean. Still, the fact that the man had all but confessed to Amanda Smythe's murder while attempting to violate Jean should have counted for something._

_The judge announced that the final sentencing would take place at a hearing later that week. Two armed police officers escorted the prisoner out of the courtroom. As the man passed Jean, his eyes bored into hers, his face taking on an entirely predatory expression: half -loathing and half-lustful. Jean shivered despite the sweltering heat of the crowded courtroom._

Jean Innocent neè Hampton woke up drenched in sweat and with her heart throbbing. The chief superintendent had been in her share of dangerous situations before; she'd been shot five times in the line- of- duty, been forced to administer CPR to a suspect who'd collapsed, and witnessed the arrest of a girlhood friend for murder. Yet of all the frightening cases that she had worked on any capacity, this was the case and the man that always came back to haunt her. Jean sat straight up and took several deep breaths. She felt a stirring beside her.

" What's going on?" a half-asleep John Innocent asked his wife.

" Nothing... er... just a bad dream is all."

" Do you want to talk about it?"

" No. I think I'll just go and work on some paper work for a bit. You go back to sleep. You'll need your rest if you're to meet with the painters later today."

John lightly kissed the side of her nose. " All work and no play makes Jean a dull girl."

" Well, this dull girl certainly does work hard, and she loves every minute of it."

He kissed her again , this time passionately on the lips.

" That's my Jean."

She got out of bed, pulled her dressing gown on over her lacy nightgown, and walked downstairs to look over the towers of paper work that one accumulates when one is chief superintendent of the Oxford police.


	2. 2: Anything Less Than Extraordinary

Chapter Two- Anything Less Than Extraordinary

DS James Hathaway tried to pay attention to the conversation, but his mind kept wandering back to the letter that he'd received the previous evening. It had been from his old girlfriend, Fiona McKendrick, announcing her engagement and telling James he would surely be invited to the wedding. _As if he'd want to see Fiona pledge her love forever to a man who wasn't him._

"Sergeant Hathaway?"

The direct gaze of Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent brought Hathaway's attention back to the present.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Do you have anything to add to Inspector Lewis's account?"

" Er..." Hathaway was taken aback. He'd only absorbed half of the account in question. "Er... no. I found Inspector Lewis's account to be quite satisfactory."

Innocent looked at him suspiciously before returning her gaze to Lewis. "As did I. Well, congratulations to both of you on another job well done. Inspector Lewis, you may return to your work. Hathaway, I'd like a word."

Lewis turned and left while his confused sergeant remained seated. When Innocent and Hathaway were alone, the superintendent leaned across her desk and stared at Hathaway."Well, James. Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?"

There were times when Hathaway would've sworn that his chief superintendent was psychic."There is nothing bothering me."

"James, you spent half of the past hour looking out the window and the other half _pretending_ to look at me. Not to mention the fact that you skipped a button on your shirt and that your tie is crooked."

_Well maybe Jean Innocent wasn't psychic— just very, __very __observant. _Although Hathaway suspected that she'd have to be, considering that she _was_ chief superintendent of the Oxfordshire Police.

"It's nothing, ma'am."

"James. I need to know what it is if it's going to affect your work performance."

"I don't think it will, ma'am."

The superintendent raised an eyebrow. "You don't _think_ it will?"

"It won't, ma'am."

"Well, I sincerely hope that you're right," she paused. "James, sometimes it's helpful to let someone know why you're upset. It can be a sort of catharsis- help you come to terms with your emotions and purge the bad ones." She paused again. "Have you tried talking to Inspector Lewis about this matter?"

"No, ma'am."

"You might want to consider it. Or you can always talk to me. We've always got on before, and I promise that whatever you have to say to me won't leave the room."

Hathaway realized that Innocent wouldn't leave him alone until he said something so he decided to share what was bothering him, careful to avoid giving too many details."It's just an old girlfriend is getting married, and before you ask, yes, I loved her. But it's no use now. She's probably happier elsewhere."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Yes, I can. I... I didn't really deserve her. She was so smart and kind and attractive and funny."

The chief superintendent walked around her desk, stood behind Hathaway, and put a comforting arm on his shoulder. "James Hathaway, I want you to remember two things. One: you possess all of those traits and more besides."

"And the second thing?"

"The second thing is something my mother used to tell me often before her untimely death:_ never___let anyone or anything make you believe that you are anything less than extraordinary."

Hathaway smiled. " Thanks. I'll be sure to keep that in mind, ma'am."

The chief super smiled back. Then the phone on her desk began to ring. She walked back to her desk and picked the phone up. Hathaway turned to go but she gestured for him to stay, mouthing, " This should only take a moment."

"Hello," she said into the she listened to whomever was calling, her face grew steadily paler and her mouth fell open in an expression of shock."Wait, could you repeat the address?" she said, her tone somewhat frantic. "No, that's what I thought you said. Well, thank you for informing us."

Innocent hung up the phone and stared off into space for a moment before noticing Hathaway watching her. "Well, don't just stand there!" she snapped. " Find Inspector Lewis and Dr Hobson at once. And, _hurry_!"

Hathaway did as he was told, wondering what the DCS had just learned that had created such a drastic alteration in her mood.


	3. The Real Mr Innocent

**I just remembered that I never placed a disclaimer on my earlier chapters so here is one now.**

**Disclaimer:****I ****do ****not ****own ****anything ****Lewis****-related ****and am ****very ****depressed ****about ****this. ****If ****I ****had ****my ****way, ****I ****would ****at ****least ****own ****Jean ****Innocent ****(because ****she ****is ****goddess ****of ****all ****things ****awesome)****and ****James ****Hathaway****(because ****he **_**is**_ **a ****dish).****Unfortunately,****all ****I ****own ****is ****my ****little ****story.**

* * *

Chapter Three- The Real Mister Innocent

"It's funny," said Inspector Robbie Lewis to the woman kneeling beside him. "I always thought that when I finally met Mr Innocent, he'd be a bit more..."

"Alive?" Dr Laura Hobson replied helpfully, raising an eyebrow at Lewis before returning her attention to the body. Her tone grew solemn. "Me too, Robbie."

"Well, what do we know so far, Dr Hobson?"

"So far? Not much. We know that the super is in the clear. Time of death was about 12 pm., and the 9-9-9 call was made at 12:30. According to you, Jean was in her office from 9:00 a.m. right up until the time the call was made."

"I can certainly vouch for her meself from about 11:00 to 12:00, and Hathaway was with her when the call was made."

"And where is the dishy sergeant now?"

"He's still with the super. She kind of lost it a bit when she saw the body. So, I told James to sit with her until she calmed down a bit. I told him when he was done, the two of them could go question the painter who made the 9-9-9 call."

"Couldn't you do that?"

"Well... I... figured he'd be better at that sort of thing. Besides, I wanted to talk to you, Laura."

Hobson rose to her feet. It had been so long since she had a man enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his." Look I realize this isn't the ideal time and place, but I want you to know that I had a really good time last night," she said, looking Robbie in the eye.

"Me too. 'Though, I wish the filet mignon had lived up to its reputation."

"I'm just glad the company did."

"Really? Who've you been talking too?"

"Our radiant DCS made a point of mentioning how charming and attentive you were the last time that you had to escort her somewhere."

"You mean the last time I pretended to be Mr Innocent?" he said. His expression sobered. "I guess I won't have to perform that particular task anymore."

"No, I guess you won't. That's the one _good _thing about this horrible matter."

"Yeah, it _was _bloody annoying to have to impersonate someone I didn't know a blasted thing about."

"Actually, I meant that I'll no longer have to share you with Jean Innocent."

Robbie stared at her, shocked to learn that Laura was jealous of his time spent with Jean.

"Oh, come off it, Laura. I mean, I'll be honest, the Chief Super _is _attractive, but I'm not at all interested. She's not my type and what's more important, I don't think that I'm hers."

"True, but you still can't blame me for feeling jealous. It wasn't easy to see Jean dressed up to the nines and you looking so very dashing and debonair. I was half afraid that you and the Super would waltz right off into the sunset, leaving me behind forever."

Lewis chuckled slightly. "I'd have to be able to waltz first."

Laura, however, didn't smile back. "It didn't help that you two make such an attractive couple."

"I think that we make a far more attractive one."

"We might, _if _I wasn't so often covered in blood."

Lewis leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Ah, but if you weren't so often covered in blood, you wouldn't be my Laura."

Hobson blushed a bit and once again knelt down beside John Innocent's corpse. Lewis followed suit.

"Anyway, Laura, is there anything else I need to know?"

"Well, even if the chief super didn't have such an ironclad alibi, I'd still know that she wasn't responsible. We're looking for a man- not a woman."

"How can you tell?"

"Well, for one thing, look at the way, his arm is bent. I'd have to do an x-ray to know for sure, but I'm pretty sure it's broken. And since the floor on which we found the body was heavily carpeted..."

"The arm would have had to have been broken by the attacker and not by the fall itself."

"Yes, and I doubt very many women would be capable of that. And another thing, see how deeply the knife penetrates his chest? It would have taken a lot of strength to drive that knife home, strength that women just don't possess. No, this was done by a man, and a very angry man at that."

"So, we just need to think of angry man with enough motive and opportunity to kill Mr Innocent."

"You mean, you haven't solved it yet?" came a voice from behind Lewis. He turned to see his tall and lanky sergeant walking toward them.

"I had it figured out the moment I saw the body," said James Hathaway.

"Would you care to enlighten us _lesser __mortals_, then?" said Robbie, smirking at James.

"It was the Russian Secret Service," said Hathaway, with a completely straight face. "You see, once they found out that Mr Innocent's work with MI6 was what foiled their latest world-domination plan, they decided to assassinate him."

Lewis smiled. One of the many terrible things about Mr Innocent's death was that Lewis and his friends could no longer speculate on Mr Innocent's existence or occupation.

"You could be right, Sergeant. But I've always maintained that Mr Innocent was an international diamond thief. Maybe one of his victims killed him in revenge."

"Would you two stop it?" Dr Hobson sighed. "This is neither the time nor the place to be joking around."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Lewis said. He turned to Hathaway. "So, is…is Jean okay? "

" She took it pretty hard as you can imagine, and it took awhile to calm her down. She's not exactly calm in any sense of the word, but at least she's more composed now. In the meantime, she's gone back to the station She said she needed to make some calls, but I think she really just wants some time on her own."

" I can believe that," Lewis responded, thinking of the way everyone had seemed to swarm him after Val's death—when all he'd really wanted was a little peace and quiet. " You know I hadn't thought of it before, but she's probably not going to be allowed to oversee the case. Conflict of interest, you know?"

"It'll be odd working under someone else. I've gotten so used to her bossing us around."

"Yeah, me too," Lewis said.

Hathaway gestured down at Mr Innocent's body. "So _this_ is the famous Mr Innocent? He's not at all what I was anticipating."

Laura gave James a pointed look." What were you expecting?"

"I dunno. Taller. More muscular. Better-looking. Jean Innocent is a fairly remarkable woman. I guess I just assumed that any husband of hers would be just as remarkable."

Lewis nodded. "He is a bit disappointing. I think I liked him better as an enigma and most definitely as a _live _enigma at that."

" Most definitely. Wish we'd gotten the chance to meet him for real. Poor Jean," Hathaway added sombrely. "Anyway, we should be getting back to the station. And Laura, call us right away if you find anything useful. I've…I've promised the chief super we'll get to the bottom of this as soon as we can."

" I will. And boys? Good luck."

" Thanks," said James. " Unless I'm missing my guess we're going to need it."

* * *

**Just thought I'd let you all know that the kiss alluded to in the story summary will be occurring in the next chapter. Jean will be kissing James, Laura, or Robbie (though obviously just one- her day has been complicated enough). I'm obviously not going to tell you which one, but some of you may find it surprising and unorthodox. So, if the thought of our Chief Super kissing any of them makes you squirm inside, you may want to skip Chapter 4. (Note: this one kiss is as physical as I plan on making the relationship, although it will be alluded to in subsequent chapters as primarily comic relief/ just another problem for Jean to deal with.)**


	4. 4: Sympathies Expressed

**So to reiterate what I wrote at the end of Chapter 3- this is the kiss scene and if the thought of Jean kissing one of her colleagues makes you want to gag, you should probably skip this chapter. While I **_**do**_ **ship these characters on the show, to take the relationship any physically further than a drunken kiss would be out-of-character for both people involved. The kiss will however be alluded to in subsequent chapters.**

* * *

Chapter Four- Sympathies Expressed

Several hours later, Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent sat at an empty table inside a small pub a few miles away from the police station. In her neat, clean suit jacket and matching skirt, she looked out of place among the rest of the patrons with their tousled hair and wrinkled clothes. There was a glass of gin in front of her, but she hadn't touched it. She had come here to clear her mind, not to lose it. Jean was still in shock over what happened today. She kept hoping to wake up and find it another nightmare.

Who on the earth would want to kill John? As far as Jean knew, he didn't have a single enemy. He got along well with his colleagues, his clients, his family, and the neighbours. And there was no way that he could've been involved in anything illegal or in an affair, because Jean, brilliant detective as she was, would have figured it out. The whole thing just didn't make any sense.

Her attention was diverted by an argument brewing between the bartender and a tall blond patron seated on one of the bar stools. The bartender seemed to be refusing to serve the man anymore drinks, while the patron was growing steadily angrier.

"Please, sir. Please just go."

"No, I've come to have a drink and I'm bloody well going to have one."

Jean surveyed the scene with new eyes. As slurred as the man's speech was, there was something undeniably familiar about his voice.

"Well, you've had your drink. Now go, you're disturbing the rest of my patrons."

"No," the man said defiantly. He turned his head, and Jean's worst suspicions were confirmed. The blond man was indeed Sergeant James Hathaway.

Jean decided to get over to Hathaway before the fight became physical. She moved a second too late. In a swift, bold movement, James Hathaway leaped over the bar and grabbed the bartender by the collar. He began shaking the man roughly and let out a stream of curse words. Eventually, the bartender released himself from Hathaway's grasp and threw a punch at the sergeant that James was only too happy to return. An enormous crowd gathered around the bar, and patrons were cheering, some taking Hathaway's side and others the bartender's. Jean tried to shout out to James, but the roar of the crowd was deafening. She looked for away around the bar, but the crowd was too tightly packed. It looked as though the only way to stop the fight was for Jean to crawl over the bar and physically separate the two men. If only she'd known not to wear high heels today!

Jean climbed up onto a bar stool, and hoisted herself onto the bar itself, careful to avoid knocking over any glasses. She carefully jumped down to the other side of the bar and grabbed James Hathaway by the hand, dragging the sergeant away from the bartender. She shook the blond man gently until he met her gaze. "James," the superintendent said carefully. "The man is right, you should go. I'll give you a lift home in my car; you're in no state to be driving yourself. I want you to go outside and wait by the door. I'll be out in a moment. Do you understand me?"

Hathaway nodded. Then, Jean turned to the crowd that was still gathered around the bar. She reached into her purse and withdrew her police badge, which she showed to the crowd. "This is police business. We would very much appreciate it if you would all return to your drinks and leave us in peace."

The crowd dispersed, and James walked around the bar to exit the pub. The chief superintendent meanwhile apologized profusely to the bartender, paid Hathaway's bill, and left a very generous tip. When she exited the pub, Jean saw Hathaway sitting on a bench not far from the door, resting his head in his hands. She walked over to and sat beside him.

"Are you ready to go now?" she asked.

"Yeah," James said, rising to his feet.

They walked over to the car. Jean slid into the driver's seat, fastened her seat belt and placed the key in the ignition as James sat down in the passenger's seat. Jean started the car and then turned to look at Hathaway who was still staring off into space. "James! Your seat belt."

"Oh, right." He fastened his seat belt as Jean drove away. They rode in silence for awhile before Hathaway spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "You shouldn't have intervened back there. I was handling it perfectly well on my own."

'_Why am I not reassured?'_ Jean thought to herself. This would be the perfect time to lecture Hathaway about the expectations and responsibilities associated with being a police office, but inebriated as he was, how much of that lecture would Hathaway really remember in the morning?

James continued. "People won't... _respect_ me if you go about fighting my battles for me."

"Because I'm a _woman_?" Jean snapped.

"Because I'm a grown man, and the last thing I need is you trying to mother me**."**

"You assume too much," Jean muttered under her breath. Then she spoke so James could hear her. "You shouldn't be 'fighting battles' anyway. You're a bloody police officer! You're _supposed_ to be investigating other people's battles or preventing them from occurring in the first place!"

Another awkward silence overtook them for sometime. Finally, Jean broke it."I think I know why you're upset, James, and I don't blame you for being so. But I can't let you self-destruct before my eyes."

"You don't understand. You _can't_. It's your bloody fault she's gone anyway!"

"James, I don't know what you mean..."

"You sent her away! That's where she met _him__**.**_ I'd always hoped that she'd come back someday and things would go back to the way things were. But now, she's _happ__y_ there."

Jean was bewildered. She scanned her brain, trying to remember anything that might correspond to Hathaway's story. Finally, something came to her.

* * *

_The chief superintendent sat at her desk, surveying the girl in front of her. In truth, Fiona Mckendrick reminded Jean Innocent quite a bit of her younger self: bright, hardworking, responsible, ambitious. "You asked to see me, Fiona?"_

"_Yes, Chief Superintendent. It's about the promotion."_

"_If you have any doubts about your ability to deal with the workload..."_

"_Oh, it's not that. It's just... I've been seeing someone, and... I'm not sure if taking the promotion is the right idea."_

_ Jean looked at her intently. " Do you love him?"_

"_I don't know. That's the whole problem. If I am in love with him and I take the promotion, I'll always regret it. But if he's not and I don't take the promotion, I'll always look back and resent myself."_

_Innocent thought for a moment. "Well, I guess the only thing that I can tell you is that if you feel in your heart, that this man is 'The One,' you should refuse the position. However, if even a small part of you doubts this, then you should go for it."_

_Fiona looked thoughtful and turned to go. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll think about what you've said."_

* * *

"James, I'm sorry. When I said I understood, I only meant that I too lost someone that I loved recently." Hathaway merely sighed in response. "Look, I know it sounds cliché, but there are other fish in..."

"None like her."

"Well, that's true, but I'm sure that there are others just as wonderful." She paused. "Fiona wouldn't want to sit around mourning her loss. She'd want you to find someone else, to be _happy_."

James looked thoughtful at that. Jean pulled the car into Hathaway's driveway and parked the car. The two of them got out of the car and walked up to the door of Hathaway's flat in silence. When they reached it, James spoke.

"Listen, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. It's not your fault. Fiona made her own decision. I'm just bitter, I guess."

"I understand." She smiled wryly. "Dr Hobson might disagree, but I've always felt that the heart is the most fragile part of the body. It bruises far too easily and far too often." She paused, staring off into space. "After today, I know that it will be months, even years before I feel myself again."

James put an arm around her shoulder. "Anyway, thank you for talking to me about Fiona, now and earlier. I know that it hasn't been an easy day for you."

"You're right, it certainly hasn't. Oh, and you've just reminded me. Thank_you_ for sitting with me at the scene, after we found the body. It really meant a lot to me." She turned, and his arm fell off of her shoulder. She smiled at him. "It's good for us officers to stand together—to be there when we need each other," she said.

"I think we need each other now."

Without another word, Sergeant James Hathaway bent down and gently pressed his lips to Jean Innocent's, placing one arm on her shoulder and the other on her waist. At first, Innocent was far too shocked to do anything. Eventually, she came to her senses and pushed him away from her. She ran back to her car and turned to face Hathaway.

"I'm sorry, James. I can't be here for you now. At least, not in the way that you seem to want."

She entered her car and sped off, driving to Dr Hobson's house. In her telephone call with her immediate superior, it had been established that the chief superintendent could not stay at her own house. It _was,_ after all, a crime scene. And even if that hadn't been the case, Jean would've felt uncomfortable staying there. When Innocent had brought that up to her colleagues, Laura Hobson had offered to share her own space with the superintendent. Jean had been a bit surprised at that; she'd never gotten the impression that she and the pathologist had gotten on at all. Hobson had explained that her own flat mate had gone to visit family for the next two weeks and that Jean was free to take her room. Jean suspected that Hobson's kindness was motivated more by pity than by any real desire for friendship, but that didn't make Jean any less grateful to the pathologist.

When Jean arrived, she parked the car, got out, and withdrew her suitcase from the trunk of her car. She'd packed at least a week's worth of toiletries and clothing, figuring that if the case was not solved by then, she could always go back to the house to exchange the clothing. Toting her bag behind her, Jean Innocent walked up to the door and knocked. A moment later, a pyjama-clad Dr Hobson came to the door, a dog-eared paperback in her hand. Jean recognized the book as an early work of one of England's best-selling mystery novelists.

'_Why on earth is Hobson still reading detective stories when she works with the police?'_ Jean wondered_. 'Hobson's whole career is bloody detective story after bloody detective story.'_ And if Jean Innocent had learned anything after all her time with the police, it was that nine times out of ten, truth really was stranger than fiction.

"You're back later than I expected," Hobson said.

"Yes, well. I ran into someone."

"Anyone I know?"

"Yes... actually it was Sergeant Hathaway."

"Oh?" Hobson raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yes … he... er... expressed his sympathies." Jean said carefully.

"That was kind of him. He always was such a good lad."

"Yes, he always _was__._"Based on the strange expression on Hobson's face, the chief superintendent wondered if the pathologist had heard the slight emphasis Jean had inadvertently placed on the word "was." Innocent quickly changed the subject."So, are you going to show me where I'm to be staying?"

Dr Hobson showed Jean to her room and then returned to her crime novel. The superintendent meanwhile changed into her nightgown and brushed her teeth. As she crawled into bed and drew the covers around her, Jean reflected that tomorrow was sure to be a better day. The chief constable had informed her that there was a senior officer already in Oxford on a pleasure trip who'd be happy to supervise the case in Jean's place. The sooner the investigation officially started, the sooner Jean would have the answers that she so desperately needed.

Unfortunately, she'd also have to go through the embarrassing task of lecturing Sgt Hathaway on proper police behaviour tomorrow as well. As she fell asleep, Jean's mind kept drifting back to one unsettling thought: that despite the complete and utter impropriety of the kiss and the fact that it had occurred at the worst possible time and place, the kiss itself really hadn't been _quite _as awful as it might have been.


	5. 5: Innocent's Ire

Chapter Five- Innocent's Ire

Inspector Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. It was almost ten o'clock, and his sergeant still hadn't arrived. Lewis looked up and saw a familiar figure standing by the door. He smiled.

"Come in, Laura."

Dr Laura Hobson entered the room and paused, glancing at Hathaway's empty chair.

"Where's...?"

"No idea. I've tried calling his mobile several times and even sent him a text message."

Laura smiled and said "Robbie, I had no idea that you could text."

"Yes, I s'pose I can now. This was my first real try. I'm not very good at it, though. Took me about twenty minutes to figure out how to send the blasted thing. But I've no response at all from James."

Hobson walked over to Lewis and put an arm on his shoulder. "Well, I'm sure James is all right."

"I hope so," Lewis said anxiously. "It's not like him to be late. He's usually here before I am." He changed the subject. "Anyway, do you have anything good to report to me?"

"Unfortunately not. That's what's so troubling. Other than what I told you yesterday, we have few real leads. There are no fingerprints on either the knife or the body, so the attacker must've worn gloves."

Laura smirked slightly before continuing."There is one thing. Based on some tests we performed, it seems that Mr Innocent may have been involved in sexual activity."

Robbie let out a groan. "Laura, if you think I'm going to barge into the super's office and ask her if she... Can you imagine how humiliating that would be for _both_ of us?"

"It was embarrassing enough to perform the tests. If it bothers you that much, make Hathaway ask."

"Make me ask what?" said a deep voice from the doorway, and DS Hathaway walked into the room.

"Where the hell have you been?" Lewis railed at the sergeant. "The super's been in here twice asking to speak to you. I had to tell her I had no bloody idea where you were."

"I...I. …wasn't feeling well. I wasn't sure if I was feeling up to coming in."

"You could've called."

"Well, I … slept late and then kind of decided at the last minute to come. Listen, did the super tell you what she wanted?"

Lewis studied his sergeant thoughtfully, wondering if he was imagining the anxious tone in James's voice. "She just said it was important."

An expression that looked oddly like relief passed over James Hathaway's face. "So, what were you saying earlier? Something about me asking someone something, I think," Hathaway asked.

Laura, a smirk firmly planted on her face spoke up. "Inspector Lewis needs you to ask the chief superintendent if she had sex with her husband the night before his murder."

"What!" exclaimed Hathaway, looking horrified at the prospect.

"We have forensic evidence that indicates that Mr Innocent may have slept with someone before he died. If he did and that someone turns out _not _to have been Jean, it _would_ make a significant difference in your investigation."

"I'm_not_ doing that. It's a lose-lose situation. Either the Super will be mad at me simply for prying into her sexual history, or she'll be mad if it turns out her husband _was_ having an affair."

"It's important to the investigation," said Lewis who was clearly enjoying the sergeant's discomfort.

James looked at Robbie pleadingly. "Can't you do it, Sir?"

Lewis flushed. "I… well… it's just better if you do it, seeing as you two are close and all."

An expression of slight panic flashed across Hathaway's face. "What do you mean, '_close _and all?'"

"I just meant that you've always gotten along. What did you think I meant?" asked Lewis, eying Hathaway curiously.

James Hathaway sat down at his chair and pretended to be examining some papers on the desk, carefully avoiding Lewis's gaze. Sensing that he would receive no clarification from the sergeant on that front, Lewis changed the subject.

"So you were sick, then?"

"Yeah. I've still got a throbbing headache."

Laura walked over to James's desk, a self-satisfied smile on her face as though she fancied that she knew something that Robbie didn't. "Are you sure that there isn't something else going on, James?" she asked.

"Well…" James began. He paused, biting his lip in thought. He continued, looking straight at Lewis, as he didn't like the knowing gleam in Hobson's eyes. " Have you ever had a dream that you'd done something _so_ bloody stupid that you wanted to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment, only to wake up and realize that it wasn't a dream?"

A certain incident in Lewis's youth involving a few fellow policemen and a confiscated stash of cannabis came to mind. Lewis wondered what on earth Hathaway could've done that measured up to that. "Would you care to elaborate?" Lewis asked, intrigued.

"No," Hathaway said firmly. "I would not care to elaborate, but it is, without a doubt, the most _idiotic_ thing that I've ever done."

"More idiotic than getting involved with Zoë Kenneth?" said Lewis, thinking back on what _he _thought Hathaway's biggest mistake had been.

Hathaway stroked his chin in thought for a moment. "I think so," he said finally.

A new voice from the door made Hathaway flinch."_There_ you are," said Chief Superintendent Innocent, her arms crossed in front of her. She walked over to the group, her eyes firmly planted on James. "I've been in here twice already asking for you, only to be informed that you had given Inspector Lewis _no_ indication of your whereabouts."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Hathaway mumbled, looking everywhere in the room but directly at her.

"I need to speak to you right away in my office." The chief superintendent's voice was strained and careful—as though she was trying very hard to avoid shouting right then and there. Innocent gestured for Hathaway to follow her out of the room, and he did, his head bent down as though he was a condemned man headed for his execution. Lewis meanwhile turned to Dr Hobson.

"Is it just me, or is their something funny going on with James?"

As she nodded her agreement, the pathologist responded. "It's not just Hathaway, though. It's Innocent as well. When she came over last night, she seemed quite… _disoriented_ and mentioned that she'd run into James."

"Do you have anywhere you need to be, Doctor?"

She looked at him questioningly. "No, I'm on break. Why?"

Robbie headed for the door. "What do you say we find out what they're not telling us?"

Laura followed him. "What, _eavesdrop_?"

"Not exactly. We could go in and tell Innocent's secretary that we need to speak to the super. And, well… we should be able to hear the conversation from outside the door."

Hobson raised an eyebrow. "So, it's _glorified_ eavesdropping, is it?"

"I guess you _could_ call it that. I prefer to think of it as serendipitous eavesdropping."

"Wow! First you send a text message, then you condone eavesdropping, and now you're using highly sophisticated vocabulary. You really _are_ full of surprises today, Robbie," said Laura, grinning at Lewis.

"I try," said Robbie, modestly.

As the two stopped outside of the main door to Innocent's office, Hobson said what she was thinking. "What do we say if the secretary asks why we need to speak to Jean?"

Lewis thought for a moment. "We can always say that we're worried about James. It's half-truth anyway."

"And if Innocent sees through that as I expect she will?"

Robbie looked straight at Laura, chuckling slightly. "Well, if she does, you can always ask her your '_medical_ question,' Doctor."

He opened the door and walked into the room, Hobson following close behind. Their eyes darted to the empty desk of the chief superintendent's secretary.

"So, since we're alone, do we just go and crouch down by the door?" Laura whispered into Robbie's ear. Lewis shrugged in response.

It was soon clear, however, that they did not need to crouch beside the door to hear. The chief superintendent's angry voice carried extremely well through the closed door. "A barroom brawl? _Really_, James? I had thought that you of _all_ people would've known better than that. You're a bloody policeman! You're supposed to protect people, not _assault_them."

Hathaway muttered something incomprehensible in response.

"And then, just when I thought, you couldn't _possibly_ embarrass me, yourself, or our noble profession any further…"

"Ma'am, I know the kiss was a mistake, and I'm _sorry_. But please remember that I was dru-" Hathaway said, as Lewis and Hobson exchanged identical looks of horror.

"I DON'T CARE that you were drunk! And you _should_ be bloody sorry! I hope you realize, sergeant, that if word of your 'mistake' leaks out, it would mean the end of _both_ of our careers."

"Please, ma'am. It was stupid, I know, but if we could just forgive and forget. I've forgotten most of the details already, and no one else knows." James said in a placating tone.

"_**I**_ know and that's more than enough people. _You _may have been drunk, Sergeant, but I was perfectly sober the _entire_ time."

"What are you doing here?"

The new voice from directly behind them made both Lewis and Hobson jump. The pair spun around to see that Camille, DCS Innocent's secretary and sergeant, had re-entered the room.

Laura stood up straight and managed to assume some semblance of composure. "The door was open, so we went ahead and let ourselves in. We need to speak to the superintendent. We have a question about her late husband's … health."

"All right," Camille said. "I'll go in now and see if the superintendent can meet with you after she's finished with Sgt Hathaway."

'_**Finished **__is the right word for it,_' Lewis thought to himself. The way Innocent was going, Hathaway _would_ be lucky to make it out of that meeting alive.

Camille entered Innocent's main office, shutting the door behind her. Behind the door, Lewis and Hobson heard the secretary address Innocent. "Ma'am, Inspector Lewis and Dr Hobson are just outside. They say they have a question about Mr Innocent's health. Should I send them in after you've finished conferring with Sgt Hathaway?"

"They're here! Now?" Innocent asked frantically. "How long have they been there?"

"Dunno," Camille said. "I just returned from the loo, and they were there when I arrived."

The chief superintendent let out an expletive that Lewis hoped he'd never hear again from the usually professional mouth of Jean Innocent. Then, Innocent continued speaking, lowering her volume a notch.

"Well, you'd better send them in right away. Now that they've overheard some highly sensitive information—well, it's better that they hear the full story rather than draw scandalous conclusions from a few compromising details."

The door to Innocent's main office opened, and Camille ushered Robbie and Laura inside where they came face-to-face with a furious Jean Innocent and Lewis's very embarrassed sergeant.


	6. 6: Awkward Conversations

Chapter Six- Awkward Conversations

"Please have a seat," Jean Innocent said, gesturing to Lewis and Hobson. "And if, possible, I'd like your word that you won't spread this around to your other colleagues."

"Yes, ma'am," Lewis said without a second thought.

Hobson, however, hesitated for a moment, before she too pledged to remain silent. As Lewis and Hobson took their seats, Innocent began to pace anxiously.

"I'm not entirely sure where to begin..." the chief superintendent said, carefully avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room.

"If you don't mind, I'll explain, ma'am," James said. Like Jean, he seemed extremely tense.

"Go on, then," Innocent said, pausing for a moment before resuming her pacing.

Hathaway turned to Lewis. "You see, Sir, after we'd finished the day's work, I went out for a drink. I've been a bit... _down_as I just learned an old girlfriend is getting married. So, I sought liquid comfort. After I had a pint or two, I got in a bit of a tiff with the bartender. And yes, punches _were_ thrown on both sides." Seeing the exasperated expression on Lewis's face, James added quickly. "Don't worry, sir, it wasn't at any of our usual places."

Lewis sighed in relief. Hobson, meanwhile, was staring at Innocent with a curious expression on her face.

"So, anyway," Hathaway continued. "The chief superintendent, who happened to be at the pub, broke up the fight and offered me a lift home. So, anyway, when Jean and I arrived at my place, she walked me up to the door and we got to talking a bit. She _was_ being surprisingly nice and sympathetic about everything. Anyway, we were talking and I don't really know what came over me. I guess I figured we'd both had a bad day and could maybe... comfort each other..." Hathaway broke off, his cheeks scarlet.

"So, you snogged her?" Hobson said, looking very much as though she wanted to laugh.

"You could say that. Though, _I _wouldn't exactly call it 'snogging.' It was too short of a kiss."  
Lewis studied his sergeant thoughtfully. As idiotic as Lewis thought that Hathaway's behaviour had been, Lewis couldn't help admiring the younger man's audacity. Drunk or sober, kissing Jean Innocent took an awful lot of nerve.

The chief superintendent stopped her pacing and continued the story, clearly in an attempt to prevent Hathaway from sharing any more details about the kiss itself.

"So, I pushed him away and told him that I wasn't interested in that sort of comfort. Then, I drove off and went over to Dr Hobson's."

Lewis still had quite a few unanswered questions, but the stone cold expression on Innocent's face prevented him from asking them. Hobson however turned to James."

"Wait, if Jean dropped you off in _her_ car and yours was still at the pub, how'd you get here this morning?"

"Took a bus to a stop about a block away from the pub, picked up the car, and drove here."

Innocent sat down at her desk as an uncomfortable silence overtook the group. Finally, Lewis had the courage to break it.

"So, ma'am, I take it Hathaway's on suspension then."

"Well, not exactly," Innocent replied, disgruntled. "To suspend him without saying why would arouse a decent amount of suspicion. And I'm certainly not going to _tell_ anyone why. It's against policy for junior and senior officers to be romantically involved, and it would be very hard to prove the kiss wasn't consensual."

"You could always try changing the policy, ma'am," Lewis said impishly.

Laura Hobson's gaze darted suspiciously from Lewis to Innocent.

Innocent gave Lewis a look that made him feel extraordinary stupid. "Trying to change the policy would only get me confronted with a law suit. I don't have the authority to change the rules, and even if I did, I wouldn't. That policy is in place for a reason. Besides," the superintendent continued, "there's another reason I don't want to suspend James. This case is extremely important to me, and if the new superintendent lets you stay on the case, I'll need both of your brains."

"So you're just going to let him off scot-free, then?" Lewis said, a trifle angrily. He strongly suspected that he wouldn't have been let off so easily if he had been the guilty party.

"Well, I can't exactly do that either or he won't learn his lesson. I'm not sure what I can do, but in the meantime, I strongly advice you to take personal leave, for a day or two James."

"I'm not interested. As you said before, this case is very important. Besides… the longer we avoid each other, the more awkward it will be to work together."

"I expect that you're right." Jean sighed as she furrowed her brow in thought. After a brief silence, she turned to Lewis. "I guess the one thing that I can do is ask you to keep a log of Hathaway's behaviour during this case. Write down any infraction or insubordination no matter how minor it may seem."

She handed Lewis a manila file folder and a few pieces of paper. "You can keep your record in there, and place the file on my desk at the conclusion of the case. I'll review the file and decide whether or not to suspend him then."

Lewis rose to his feet and then turned to go. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot. Hathaway has something else to ask you, ma'am. A question about Mr Innocent's... personal health."

If looks could have killed, Sgt James Hathaway would have murdered his inspector. Lewis meanwhile, grabbed a pencil off of the superintendent's desk and made a big show of opening the manila folder.

"Yes, James?" Innocent asked.

Hathaway shot another furious look at Lewis before responding.

"Did you have sex with your husband the night before his murder?"

"WHAT?"

"There is forensic evidence that suggests that he slept with someone. We need to know if it was you or someone else."

The chief superintendent stared at the sergeant with venom in her eyes. She remained silent for a time and then replied through clenched teeth. "I'm going to answer your question, but only because I know that it's important to the case. However if any of you—_especially_ you_, _James—attempt to pry into my sexual history again, I will personally make your every day a veritable Hell. Yes, I slept with my husband the night before he died. Now GET OUT of my sight, all of you!"

Lewis, Hobson, and Hathaway were only too happy to oblige with the chief superintendent's wishes. The three of them exited Innocent's office and returned to Lewis's. When they arrived, Hobson muttered something about needing to get back to work and took her leave of them. As Hathaway sat down at his desk, Lewis shut the door and then walked over to Hathaway's desk.

"You kissed our guvnor last night and you didn't_ tell _me_**!**_ I thought we were closer than that. Believe me, if you'd called and told me that's why you were coming in late, I _would've_ covered for you. I don't blame you for wanting to—_what was it again—_crawlin a hole and die of embarrassment."

"That's not exactly the kind of thing one feels comfortable sharing over the phone." Hathaway's voice took on a mocking, sarcastic tone as he continued. "'Hello, sir. How are you? Hey, listen, I snogged our boss last night in a drunken stupor, and I _really_ don't want to put up with her wrath and a hangover at the same time. So, can you _pretty please_ cover for me?'"

"Were you going to tell me at all, then?" Lewis asked.

"No…yes… _I don't know_. If you were the one who had kissed her, would you have told me?"

"Course not. It's none of your business."

"_Have_ you kissed her then—maybe on one of your excursions as Mr Innocent?"

"No, I haven't." Lewis's face took on a nonplussed expression. "Why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

"I'm not," Hathaway said quickly.

Lewis studied his sergeant carefully before changing the subject. "Anyway, I hope you realize how fortunate you were not to have gotten yourself suspended! You're probably the only person here who could've gotten away with it. I guess being her bloody favourite does pay off! Now, if it had been _me__**,**_ she'd have thrown me in the sack and kicked me halfway to Edinburgh."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said Hathaway, a wry smile forming on his face.

"Oh and why is that?" Lewis asked, wondering if this was more of Hobson's nonsense about Innocent secretly being in love with him.

"You were always her 'bloody _second_ favourite.'"

Lewis chuckled. "You know, sergeant, I'm not entirely sure as to whether you meant that as a compliment or insult."

"Neither am I."

The two sat in silence for a moment, flipping through the paperwork they'd collected so far for the case. Lewis glanced up at Hathaway, who still looked uneasy.

"So… are you going to tell me how it was?" Lewis said carefully.

"How what was?"

"Don't play the innocent with me…" Lewis said, pausing to consider the accidental pun he'd just made.

Hathaway laughed. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid it's _you_ who's been 'playing the innocent.' Quite literally, I might add."

Lewis groaned. "Oh, very droll, James." He lowered his voice a notch. "So are you going to tell me about the …_kiss_?"

"Why so interested, Inspector? Are you _jealous_? I've half a mind to tell Dr Hobson on you."

Lewis flushed an unbecoming shade of crimson. "You don't need to tell Laura. It's just… well, besides you, I only know for sure of one other fellow who's kissed Jean Innocent, and that other fellow is dead! You can't blame a man for being _curious_."

"Well, _wonder away_! I don't want to talk about it or even think about it," said James, resting his head on his desk.

Lewis walked back over to his desk and sat down, picking up the manila folder.

"Then, you've left me with no choice, sergeant. I'm going to have to write you up for that."

"You're joking, sir," said Hathaway, his head darting up quickly in a manner reminiscent of an anxious meerkat.

"No, I'm not." Lewis checked his watch and started scribbling on a sheet of paper. "Let's see, quarter-to-eleven on Thursday the twenty-first, the sergeant refused to answer questions that may prove significant to the outcome of the case."

"'_Significant to the outcome of the case?_' How do you work that one out? What if the super asks for specific details?"

"She's so angry with you that she'll undoubtedly suspend you without asking any questions. And as for the relevance… Have you ever considered the possibility that an ex-lover of the super's killed Mr Innocent so that he could have Jean to himself? Based on your personal experience with the chief super, we can determine whether or nor Jean Innocent is the kind of woman that a man would commit murder for."

"We can?" Hathaway asked sceptically.

"Yes, we can. So unless you _want_to be suspended based on your unwillingness to cooperate with the investigation, I suggest you 'spill the beans' as our American friends will have it."

"_Fine_," James said angrily, crossing his arms in front of him. "Just remember that I _was_ drunk and so I don't remember most of it."

"That's alright. Just tell me what you do remember," Lewis said eagerly.

James knew that he was finally going to get his comeuppance for all the teasing he'd done when Robbie and Laura had started dating. He silently resolved to choose his words carefully, sure that Lewis would never let him forget them. "It was all right. Pretty short."

"You're going to need to give me more than that to get off the hook. Details, James, _details_."

Aware that Lewis wasn't going to accept anything less than "dirty details," James decided to elaborate a bit further. "Her lips are soft, and she smells fantastic."

"Fantastic, eh. Care to elaborate?"

"Like… really fragrant flowers."

"Oh, _flowers_, is it? What _kind_of flowers?"

It was clear that Robbie was enjoying himself far too much in completely humiliating James, and the sergeant was growing steadily more infuriated as a result. "I dunno. Do I_ look_like the sort of bloke who goes about distinguishing between floral scents?"

"Well, to be _quite_ honest, sergeant…" Lewis shut up when he saw Hathaway scowling at him. After pausing a moment, he continued. "Well, enough about Innocent's perfume. How did you _feel_?"

"Drunk."

"You mean she was just so wonderful that it was… intoxicating?" Lewis said awestruck.

"No, sir. You asked me how I felt, not how the kiss made me feel. I _felt_drunk, because I was drunk at the time."

Lewis let out a frustrated sigh. Hathaway was deliberately avoiding Lewis's primary interest in the event. Robbie decided to try asking his questions more directly. "All right, how did the kiss make you feel?"

"Like a complete imbecile."

"I don't mean _now_. I mean when you were actually… you know… _kissing_."

Hathaway thought for a while before responding. "Well, there were no 'bells and fireworks' if that's what you're asking. And _no_, I was not overtaken with an uncontrollable lust for my boss. But the kiss itself really wasn't all that distasteful." He paused for a moment. "Not that I plan on repeating the experience," he added quickly, noticing the strange way that Lewis was staring at him. "Does that answer all of your questions?"

"Not quite. I still have one more. Based on the quality of the kiss, do you think Jean Innocent is the kind of woman you can see a man committing murder for?"

Hathaway leaned back in his chair and pondered this. "I'm not sure, sir," he said honestly. "The kiss wasn't long enough for me to get a decent idea."

"Lewis!" said Jean Innocent's muffled voice, coming from behind the door.

Lewis and Hathaway both stared at each other, anxious expressions on each of their faces.

"Yes, ma'am?" Lewis said tentatively.

"I forgot to tell you. The officer who's supervising your case is supposed to arrive today at two o'clock. I'd like for you and Hathaway to meet with him when he arrives."

"Very good, ma'am."

Lewis waited until the sound of Innocent's high heels faded. Then he turned to Hathaway. "It'll be interesting to meet the new super. Just promise me that you won't try to snog this one."

Hathaway grinned. "I'll promise if you will."

"Sergeant, you've got yourself a bargain," said Robbie, holding out his hand.


	7. 7:  Old Friends

**Note: My apologies to the real British police forces for any mistakes and inconsistencies I may have made due to my faulty understanding of the British police hierarchy. I can only plead ignorance as I am American and our police system is somewhat different. So I sought help from Wikipedia, which although clarifying some details did not give me the full understanding that I desired.**

* * *

Chapter Seven- Old "Friends"

Jean Innocent sat at her desk, massaging her temples. It was only one-thirty, and yet, the chief superintendent had never been more ready for the end of the day.

Her bad mood had begun this morning when she'd woken up in a strange, uncomfortable bed without John beside her. Then, she'd had to put up with Laura Hobson shooting suspicious glances at her from across the breakfast table. When Jean had arrived at work, she'd found another mountain of paperwork on her desk. After that, she'd been forced to share intimate details of her private life, and most recently, Jean had overheard two of her best officers discussing her as though she was a salacious character on one of those ghastly soap operas that her sister followed obsessively.

Jean's attention was diverted when she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she said, praying that the person wasn't Lewis, Hathaway, or Hobson.

As the doorknob turned, the chief superintendent wondered if it was possible for her day to get any worse. When she looked up and saw the man standing in the now-open doorway, she knew that the answer to her question was "yes."

Chief Inspector Harvey Malcolm of Scotland Yard had changed little in the year-and-a-half since Jean Innocent last seen him. He was still tall, broad-shouldered, and darkly attractive. The only noteworthy change in his appearance was that his nose was now crooked—as though it had been broken at least once. Jean was aware of a feeling of envy building in her for the lucky person who'd had the undeniable pleasure of breaking the despicable Malcolm's nose.

Malcolm ran over to Jean and seized her by the wrist. In a falsely genteel manner, Malcolm raised Innocent's hand to his lips and then lowered it, neither releasing nor loosening his grasp on the chief superintendent's wrist.

"Ah, Jean, my lovely, _lovely_ Jean. It is always such a delight to see you, my dear. I have missed you so."

Jean remained silent, as the only thing that she could've said in response was that she hadn't missed him at all—that in fact, she'd been hoping that they'd never have to cross paths again. Instead, Jean focused her attention on attempting to free herself from Malcolm's grasp. Noticing her efforts, Malcolm placed his free hand on top of her hand, trapping her still further.

"You're looking as beautiful as ever," he said, his eyes boring into Jean's in a way that made the chief superintendent feel extremely vulnerable.

"I wish I could say the same for you," Jean snapped, glowering at him.

Malcolm laughed deeply, and as he did, his grip on Jean loosened a bit, allowing the chief superintendent to free her hand.

"Ah, yes. The nose_is_ a bit of an eyesore, isn't it? We have your dearly departed husband to thank for that. My condolences, by the way."

Malcolm put a hand on Jean's shoulder, in what he clearly thought was a sincerely comforting manner. Jean immediately shook Malcolm's hand off.

"_Keep_ your condolences! I _despise_ being pitied, particularly by people whose sympathy is as false as their integrity."

Malcolm disregarded the personal slight he'd just received and returned the subject to its previous topic. "_Anyway,_ as I was saying, the broken nose is a souvenir from my last meeting with your husband. You may recall that when the three of last crossed paths, John and I got into a bit of a row. Through your husband may not have told you this, the two of met to resolve our differences the next morning. _That's_ when I broke my nose."

"The last time we crossed paths? This wouldn't perhaps be the time that you crashed a private party and spent majority of the evening _harassing_me, would it?"

"'Harass' is such a vile word. I was merely attempting to catch up with what was going on in your life."

"_Catch up_! At Scotland Yard, backing a married woman into a dark corner and attempting to 'cop a feel' is now considered '_catching up_,' is it?"

Determined to create distance between them, Jean took several steps away from Malcolm. Undeterred by this, Malcolm simply followed the chief superintendent's lead.

"I'll admit it; I was quite distracted by your many charms," said Malcolm, his eyes clearly focused on the expanse of chest exposed by the low neckline of Innocent's sweater.

"Attempt something like that again, and I myself will show you just how _**'**__charming__**'**_ I can be!" the chief superintendent said emphatically, taking another step away from Malcolm.

Malcolm laughed coldly. "I look forward to it. My dear, I must confess. As lovely as your face and form are, I've always found your fiery temper and your streak of independence to be your most endearing qualities."

"And I always found your arrogance and misogyny to be _yours_," the chief superintendent said, her voice oozing with sarcasm.

"I'm flattered. I was beginning to think that you didn't care in the slightest, my delicate flower."

Innocent threw up her hands in frustration and snorted in a manner that was in no way delicate. "Ending our relationship was the _best _damned thing that I ever did!"

Malcolm took on another step toward her. He brought his face close to Innocent's and tilted the superintendent's chin upward so that their eyes met. "No, my dear, _beginning_ it was," he whispered softly into her ear.

Jean forced her chin out of his grasp and turned her back to him. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing here, or do you want me to _guess?_"

"Oh, didn't I tell you, my dove? I'm here to investigate your husband's murder."

"WHAT?" Jean shouted, reeling around to face him. "It can't be you, it just _can't_ be! … I was told it was an officer of similar rank." She lifted her chin imperiously. "A chief superintendent most definitely outranks a mere chief inspector."

"Ah, but I've just been promoted. You're looking at Detective Chief Superintendent Harvey Malcolm of the newly-formed Buckinghamshire Police. That's why I'm in Oxford, see? I'm taking some time off before I start my new position—a position that I'm very excited about by the way. Oxford and Buckinghamshire are close, so we'll get to see each other often; it'll be almost like 'old times.' Won't that be nice?"

Innocent didn't think that it was "nice" at all. She mentally cursed the idiot who'd promoted Malcolm, the idiot who'd moved him to Buckinghamshire, _and_ the idiot who'd given him permission to supervise the case, (who were most likely all the same idiot—Jean's former boss, Gus Rookwood of Scotland Yard).

Jean returned back to her desk "I'm sure that if I just clarify all of this with the chief constable, you won't have to worry your _empty_ little head about anything. I'll just explain that you are a _major_ conflict-of-interest, and then you can go on your merry little way to Buckinghamshire to start your new position." She attempted to pick up the telephone on her desk, but Malcolm stopped her by placing his hand firmly on top of hers.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, that is, unless you _want_me to tell old Rookwood about the _good _old days when his dear little Jeannie was 'innocent' in neither name nor nature."

"Those days incriminate you just as much as they do me. In fact, I'd say you were significantly _more_ at fault than I. _You_ were the senior officer at the time."

"I'm sorry, my dove, but I don't think that the old boys at Scotland Yard will see it like that. They used to call you 'Lady Macbeth' behind your back, did you know? They all thought that you would do _anything_to rise up in the ranks. They'll want to believe that the bright, ambitious young sergeant seduced the honest and diligent…" Malcolm broke off as Jean snorted again. " … Inspector rather than the other way around."

Innocent hung up the phone, but continued to stare hostilely at Malcolm. "Not _all_ of them will. Felmen, for one, will see right through you."

"_Of course_, Felmen will want to protect his former sergeant. And that's all the others will see it as—Felmen shielding his protégé's reputation from harm. That is, until, the rumour gets out that you slept with Felmen as well."

"WHAT? He's twenty years my senior _and_ happily married, I might add!"

Malcolm shrugged. "People love a scandal. They'll want to believe it, so they won't even bother to listen to what you say."

"So, you're blackmailing me into letting you stay on the case, are you? Are you also going to blackmail me into sleeping with you? Because if you _are__**, **_you can go ahead and tell Rookwood your worst! I accept that practically everyone of our rank is a conflict-of-interest of some kind, so I'll let you stay on the case if I must. But, I refuse to _prostitute_ myself!" Innocent said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"No, I'm not going to blackmail you into doing that. You'll come to me of your own free will."

Somehow, the conviction with which he said that frightened Jean even more than when she'd thought he was blackmailing her. Innocent straightened her back and lifted her neck to look Malcolm in the eye." You are free to believe in whatever delusions that you desire, but be aware of the fact that they_are_delusions and nothing else."

The two stared each other down for a brief moment, and then Malcolm decided to change the subject."So, seeing as you _are_ going to let my stay on the case, when can I start?"

'_The sooner, Malcolm starts on the case, the sooner he'll be out of my hair.'_ The chief super thought to herself.

"I can introduce you right now to Inspector Lewis and Sergeant Hathaway, who've been leading the investigation. If I may, I'd like to request permission that they remain on the case; they're one of my most efficient teams, if a bit… unorthodox."

"Permission granted. Take me to see them."

* * *

Robbie Lewis and James Hathaway were both seated at their desks when they heard the knock at the door. "Robbie, James, your new superintendent Harvey Malcolm is here and wants to meet with you."

"Come in, then," Lewis said.

The door opened, and Innocent walked into the room, closely followed by a tall dark-haired man that Hathaway assumed was the notorious Malcolm. Lewis rose from his chair and walked over to join Innocent and Malcolm. James, meanwhile, remained at his desk, scrutinizing the new arrival carefully. Lewis introduced himself, and Malcolm heartily shook the inspector's hand. Then Malcolm walked over to Hathaway.

"So, this must be the _famous_ James Hathaway. I've heard lots about you from our mutual friend Fiona McKendrick at Scotland Yard."

"All of it good, I hope," Lewis said brightly.

"Naturally."

"Er… Fiona's mentioned you as well," Hathaway said evenly, a frown firmly etched on his face.

"I'm glad."

"Is it all right, if I go then?" Innocent said, her hand resting on the doorframe.

"No, my dear," Malcolm said as he rushed over to her. "_Stay!_ You're among friends here." He placed an arm around Innocent's waist and pulled her to him, so that the two were hip-to-hip. Malcolm turned his gaze to James. "Did you know, Mr Hathaway, that I've known your Chief Super since she was a sergeant just like you? We were _very_ good friends for a time, and I'm afraid it's been far too since we last saw each other. _Hasn'_t it been too long, Jean?

Malcolm lowered the hand on Innocent's waist so that it now rested on her outer thigh. With his free hand, Malcolm began to lightly stroke Innocent's hair.

"I think that we should be thinking about formally starting this investigation. Seeing as you're not needed here, ma'am, I think that you can go back to your office and return to work," said Hathaway, acutely aware of Innocent's current discomfort.

For that, Jean Innocent almost forgave James Hathaway for the events of that morning and the previous evening. Innocent was so grateful that someone else seemed to have seen through Malcolm that she temporarily forgot her anger with the sergeant. Jean shot James a thankful smile from across the room.

"I don't recall _asking_ for your opinion, Sergeant," Malcolm said crossly, studying Hathaway with distaste.

"You didn't need to ask, _Sir__**. **_Didn't _dear_Fiona tell you how wonderful I am at sharing without Mummy reminding me to do so?"

Robbie covered his smile by placing the manila file that he was holding in front of his face while Jean hastily turned her laugh into a cough.

"No, she didn't._She_ said that you were charming, but I suppose that anyone can make a mistake."

"Either that, or the two of you simply have different ideas on what constitutes charm."

Innocent forcibly removed Malcolm's hand from her and took another step toward the door. "James is right about the need for _all_ of us to get back to work, so I think I'll go now."

"All right," Malcolm said, clearly distressed that the chief superintendent would be leaving them. "But remember, Jean, if you need to talk to someone about this mess, you know where to find me. I'm sure you remember how… _comforting_ I can be."

Shuddering slightly, Jean Innocent turned and promptly left the room. Malcolm's eyes followed her until she was out of sight. Then, he turned to Robbie.

"Gosh, I'd forgotten about her tight arse," Malcolm said, his eyes wistful. "And I do mean that in more ways than one."

Hathaway, who'd returned to his seat, had his eyes glued to the paperwork on his desk, but Lewis could tell from the scowl still quite pronounced on the sergeant's face that Malcolm was greatly irritating James.

"Don't you agree, boys?" Malcolm asked.

Lewis looked at Hathaway awkwardly. The sergeant just sighed disgustedly. Lewis returned his gaze to Malcolm and forced a nervous laugh.

"She _is_ a bit uptight at times," Lewis said quietly.

"_A__bit?__That's the understatement of the year_," Hathaway thought to himself.

"As for the other thing, I … er… well… hadn't really noticed," Lewis continued, blushing furiously.

_**'Liar**_,' Hathaway thought, smirking to himself. '_You just don't want word to get around to Dr Hobson that you noticed._'

Malcolm stared at Lewis in disbelief. "Are you _gay_ or something, Inspector? Because I can't quite fathom how any normal man could fail to think about it, at least from time to time."

'_So Malcolm is narrow-minded and homophobic as well_,' James noted. _'Just two more reasons to hate him_."

"No, sir, I'm not gay. I just like to keep my boundaries. I try not to think of those things where the super is concerned. Remember, she_ is_ my boss," Lewis said.

"Ah, but she's not mine," Malcolm said contently. "Thankfully, the lovely Jean and I are complete equals."

That was the last straw for Hathaway. The sergeant rose to his feet. "You and Jean Innocent are in no way equals," he said vehemently as he looked down disapprovingly at Malcolm, who (though tall) was a good inch shorter than James.

"I beg to differ. We _are_ both chief superintendents."

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but Jean_is_ your superior, if not in rank, than at least in character."

"Oh, and what makes you say that, Sergeant?"

"Fiona McKendrick's told me_all_ about you, _Sir_."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Oh, she has, has she?"

"Yes, and I think that it's only fair to tell you. I don't _care_if you're supposed to be my boss. If you continue to harass our chief super, you'll have to answer to _me_."

Malcolm took a step toward Hathaway and examined the sergeant with new eyes. He gave Hathaway an inquisitive look and then laughed in the younger man's face.

"What are you, her knight-champion or something?"

Hathaway held up his head. "Something like that. It's a sad world, when women as intelligent and capable as Jean and Fiona need constant protection from the likes of you."

"Did you know, sergeant, that I could suspend you right now for that comment?"

"Did you know, _sir__**, **_that I could very easily break your arm if I really wanted to?"

"That's enough, James," said Lewis tentatively, stepping between the two men. He looked Malcolm in the eyes. "I want to apologize for my sergeant, sir. He's having a bit of a rough week and is quite touchy. He didn't really mean anything by it. _Did_ you, James?'

"No, I didn't mean anything by it," James lied smoothly, "just venting a bit."

"Good," Malcolm said.

After a very long and tense silence, Malcolm returned his attention to Robbie. "So, anyway, what exactly do I need to know about this case?"

"Well as you likely already know, the victim is John Innocent, aged fifty-five, president of a small but highly profitable banking firm. Mr Innocent is a graduate of Oxford, and he comes from a very powerful and wealthy family. His brother is an MP, his cousin is the British ambassador to Italy, and of course, his widow is Jean Innocent, chief superintendent of the Oxfordshire Police and granddaughter of the current Junior Minister," Lewis said.

Hathaway continued, "Anyway, Mr Innocent was found dead yesterday by a Mr Bradley James, head of a painting firm that scheduled to consult with Mr Innocent at the banker's home. Yesterday, as you may recall, was a bank holiday so Mr Innocent was _supposed _to be at home. Mr James maintains, that once he arrived, he tried knocking and ringing the doorbell. When no one answered, Mr James tried the doorknob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He entered the house and soon discovered Mr Innocent on the floor, stabbed through the heart. Mr James immediately dialled 9-9-9 on his mobile and waited for the police to arrive."

"Any fingerprints found?" Malcolm asked

"Nothing whatsoever on the knife, the body or any nearby furniture."

"Do we know anything about our killer?"

"Forensics reckons that the killer was a man based on the depth of the knife wound. Other than that, we know absolutely nothing about the murderer."

"Any other clues?"

Hathaway and Lewis looked at each other for a brief moment, both trying to decide whether to disclose the potential "medical clue" that Dr Hobson's team had uncovered. The two men returned their gazes to Malcolm and both gave an emphatic "no" at almost the exact same moment.

Malcolm moved to the door. "Well, if that's all… I've been told that Inspector Milton is on leave, and the super's secretary told me that I could use his office, for the time being."

Malcolm turned and promptly left the room. When he had gone, Hathaway muttered "Good riddance" under his breath.

"James," Lewis said carefully, "that display with Malcolm was downright disgraceful. You need to calm down right now."

"_Calm down_?" Hathaway forced a laugh. "I notice that you're not asking Malcolm to keep _his_ disgusting thoughts to himself! If you had any spine at all, you'd have stood up to him too."

"James, you don't have to_like_Malcolm. You just need to work with him for a few days. I personally find him repulsive as well, but this case_ is_ more important than our personal convictions. … If you can just try to… keep it together until we solve the case."

"All right," James said reluctantly. "I'll _try_."

He threw himself back into his seat and began pounding furiously on the keyboard of his computer.

"What exactly _did_Malcolm do to McKendrick anyway?" Lewis asked, half-afraid of the answer.

"Well, I don't know for sure if Fiona told me everything, but what I _have_ heard sounds an awful lot like your average case of sexual harassment."

"Didn't McKendrick report him?"

Hathaway shook his head. "She didn't think they'd believe her."

Lewis made a face. "I can't imagine why; Malcolm seems like a nasty piece of work. Do you… do you reckon he did the same thing to Innocent?"

"Well, he's certainly 'got designs' on her; that's obvious enough, but I dunno about the sexual harassment angle. Jean really doesn't seem the type to take something as serious as sexual harassment sitting down. You saw for yourself what a big deal she made out of a mere kiss. So… unless Innocent's afraid of Malcolm for some reason…"

"Which would be?"

"Dunno. Maybe… maybe he attempted a bit more than mere harassment or maybe…"

"Maybe he knows something about her that could potentially jeopardize her career," Robbie finished.

"Possiblyboth."

"Remind me that I need to have a nice little chat with her later," Lewis muttered, half- to- himself.

"Better you than me. I just hope that she'll be able to get Malcolm off our case—literally _and _figuratively. I'm sorry, sir, but working with that slime-ball will just put me in mind of all the slithering he did at Scotland Yard. I'm still worried about what he may have done to her."

"Her? Would that be Innocent or McKendrick?"

"_Both_, now that you mention it."

Seeing the forlorn look on his sergeant's face, Lewis put an arm on Hathaway's shoulder. Hathaway turned to his inspector and gave a grim half-smile.

"Well, Sir, I guess there's one good thing about having to work for such a revolting little bugger."

Lewis could not think of a single good thing, so he stared uncomprehendingly at his sergeant.

"Oh, and what's that?"

"I don't think there's_any_ danger of me snogging _this _super."

Lewis fought back a laugh. "You and me both, James."

* * *

**So, just out of curiosity, did anyone catch the brief **_**Merlin**_** and **_**Harry Potter **_**references that I threw in this chapter just for fun?**


	8. 8: A Dinner Date

Chapter Eight- A Dinner Date

Dr Laura Hobson sat down after Robbie pulled out a chair for her and pushed it in after the pathologist had been seated for a moment. Although the ambiance of the pizza parlour at which the two had gathered was simple and casual, Robbie still insisted on performing little old-fashioned gestures of formality. It was one of the more-endearing facets of his character, and it constantly reminded Laura that—contrary to popular belief—chivalry was not yet dead.

"So, what sort of pizza do you like?" Robbie asked after he had resumed his own seat.

"Oh, er… all kinds. What kind do you like?"

"Cheese, pepperoni, ham, vegetable. 'Bout the only topping I hate is anchovies."

Laura smiled. "I really don't care for them either."

"Me dad used to love 'em, though," Lewis said, his eyes glinting with nostalgia. "I remember, every year on his birthday, me mum would make homemade anchovy pizza. We'd _all_ have to eat it. No excuses. So, I'd pick off all the little bits off my slice and casually slip them under the table to the dog."

"Did you ever get caught?"

"No, but I _did _make Fido sick to his stomach once. I remember being so upset that I told Dad everything."

"What did he do?"

"At first, he just laughed, and then he refused to let me go to my older cousin's cricket game the next week. I was a bit miffed, but deep down, I really thought I deserved worse. I was so worried that I'd killed Fido."

"Had you?" Hobson asked, her expression grave.

"No, he lived another three years after that, but I never fed another anchovy to him."

"I'm not surprised," said Laura, laughing as she returned her gaze to the menu.

"So, is pepperoni and ham alright, then?" Robbie asked.

"That sounds wonderful." Laura carefully studied Robbie over her menu. "You _are_going to let me pay for myself this time, aren't you, Robbie?"

"Of course not. Me dad always told me that it's always proper for the bloke to pay when he asks a girl on a date."

Laura sighed. Robbie's traditional side was also one of the more annoying facets of his character_. _

"That may have been the case in your father's day, but this is the twenty-first century. It's all about equality."

"Ah but there's the problem, Laura. Men and women in general may be equal, but _we're _not. You're a much better person than I am."

Laura wondered why Robbie was so hard on himself. She suspected that it must have something to do with the fact that Lewis had been unable to save Val from her fate. _As if_ he could have done anything!

"Robbie…"

"It's true," Lewis said glumly. "_Today__**,**_ for instance_**, **_I was unnecessarily harsh with James. He probably hates me right now."

"I'm no better than you are. I fully intend to interrogate Jean the moment I return to the house. I've always wanted to talk to another woman about what it's like to snog the 'dishy sergeant.'"

Robbie felt a touch of concern. _What was that comment supposed to mean? _Laura _had _always mentioned that she found James attractive, and the whole Hathaway/Innocent affair made Robbie wonder if James had always had a taste for "older women."

"Let's not talk about that," Lewis said uncomfortably.

A waiter appeared at the table to collect their order and went off to fetch their drinks.

"So, anyway, do you and James have any leads on the case?" Laura asked, genuinely interested in Robbie's response.

"Well, right now we're looking at the possibility that Mr Innocent's occupation might have been what made him a target. We've examined the list of recent foreclosures and evictions in hopes of finding a possible connection. We've also questioned his colleagues, but none of them seems to have a strong enough motive."

The waiter returned with their sodas, and Laura took a sip of hers.

"Have you questioned Jean yet? I mean… I know she didn't commit the murder, but she might have a vengeful ex-boyfriend or something…"

Lewis blushed. "No, I haven't questioned her yet. Between James's revelation, your medical query, and Malcolm's innuendos, I feel that that I've learned more than enough about Jean Innocent's love life for the day."

"Yes, I suppose you have."

The two sat in silence for awhile until Hobson suddenly let out an odd sort of giggle.

"What are you sniggering about?" Lewis asked curiously.

Hobson took a deep breath to slow her laughter. "The whole thing with James. It's kind of funny when you think about it."

"You think so?"

Laura nodded. "Yeah, I do actually, just the way that both James and Jean completely overreacted about the whole thing. Their response was so… predictable, and yet the kiss itself was so unexpected."

Robbie stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You know, now that I really think about it, it shouldn't really have come as a complete shock to us. We should have foreseen that it might've happened. I did kind of throw them together yesterday. And didn't James call her 'remarkable' or something as well?"

"Yes, but its one thing to call someone remarkable and to be her shoulder to cry on. It's another thing to snog that someone."

"Remember, he claims he was drunk." Lewis said

"Oh, I _know_. That's the only detail that makes this matter at all plausible." Hobson replied earnestly.

Robbie shot the pathologist a look. "Now, Laura, don't be mean. The chief super's not really all _that_ terrible. She can be downright charming when she really wants to be, and she _is_quite attractive. "

Laura crossed her arms. "I'm not calling Jean unattractive. Quite the contrary, she's far _too_ attractive for her own good. I only meant that she doesn't seem to be James's type."

"Well, there_ is_ the age difference, but other than that, I don't see why she wouldn't be his type: she's intelligent, diligent, good-looking…"

"_And_ extremely narrow-minded. She's _also_ petty, spoiled, vindictive, and proud."

Lewis wondered if this was more of Laura's jealousy coming out. Sure, Innocent was narrow-minded, proud, and spoiled (though Hathaway was no different in those regards), but Lewis thought calling the chief superintendent " vindictive" and " petty" was a bit cruel of the pathologist.

Laura continued. "Besides, I've always thought that James preferred blondes."

There it was again, another comment that might imply that there was more to Hobson and Hathaway's relationship than Lewis had been aware of. Lewis felt that he needed clarification before things got more out-of-hand than they already were

"Er, Laura," Lewis said nervously. "Sorry, but the whole thing with Innocent has got me somewhat paranoid… Have you… and James… Have you ever…?"

"Have we ever _what_?"

"Er… you know," Lewis said uncomfortably.

"Have we ever _what_? Held hands? Danced too close? Snogged? Fooled around in your office after hours?"

"Erm… any of the above?"

"No!" Hobson said, giving him a scrutinizing look. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Well, you just said that you thought that Hathaway preferred blonde women!"

"I was referring to Fiona McKendrick!"

"Yeah, but what about Scarlet Mortmaigne and Zoë Kenneth? Neither of them was blonde."

"Well, I'm _sorry_that I chose to disregard psychopathic transsexuals and spineless debutantes from my analysis of James's love life!"

"And then, earlier, you mentioned wanting to talk to another girl about what it's like to kiss Hathaway."

" I only meant that I was curious to obtain the female perspective on what it _would_be like if I ever were to try it—something that I'm not about to do, because, believe it or not, I am committed to this relationship!"

Lewis held up his hands. "All right, I believe you. I just wanted to be sure."

A disturbing thought occurred to Laura. She studied Robbie suspiciously. "Wait! Have _you_kissed Jean? Is that where all of the mistrust and conspiracy theories are coming from? You have a secret that you don't want me to know about so you assume that the same applies to me!"

"Laura, I never!"

Laura rose to her feet angrily. "I'm not sure I believe you. I thought it was a bit odd of you to ask me to dinner twice in the same week, but now it all makes sense! You wanted to reassure me that all is right in our relationship when you know perfectly well that isn't!"

"Laura, calm down; you're making a scene!"

It was true. Several of the other people in the restaurant were openly staring at the pair of them in shock. Hobson noticed this and resumed her seat. She stopped her shouting but continued to stare daggers at Lewis.

"Laura, I would _never_ lie to you. I haven't kissed or done anything resembling kissing to Jean Innocent. Ask _her_ if you don't believe _me_."

"But you don't _deny_ that you've had the opportunity? You don't deny that at least a small part of you is curious to try it?"

"It's the same small part of you that wants to snog Hathaway! I'm not going to deny my curiosity. I'm only _human_, Laura. But I'm not going to do anything about it! Like you, I'm committed to our relationship."

Laura looked somewhat relieved, so Robbie continued. "Besides, the chief super is my boss and I'm _forbidden_ to get involved with her."

A scowl returned to Laura's face.

"And _didn't_ you ask her to change the policy today? I'll bet you were secretly hoping to pull a Hathaway once the stupid rule changed!"

"I was _joking_ when I asked her to change the rule. Although, changing the policy mighthelp out James the next time he loses his mind and decides Innocent is his soul mate."

"Oh that _would_ be convenient for you—wouldn't it? Our relationship would be _perfectly_repaired by the pairing up of the two people most likely to jeopardize it!" Hobson said bitterly.

"Laura, for someone who prides herself on being open-minded and rational, you're certainly acting like a bloody fool! I have no desire to 'pair' up Innocent and Hathaway, nor do I feel that they are in any way likely to jeopardize our relationship. What _is_—however—likely to jeopardize it is your completely baseless jealousy of the chief super. And it _is_ completely baseless! Yes, Jean is attractive, but _you're_ the one that I want. You're the one that makes me laugh when I'm with you and brood when I'm alone. _You're_the one who makes me want to be the best man that I can possibly be!"

Hobson opened her mouth to respond and then closed it. She took another sip of her soda as she considered what Robbie had just said. Lewis looked at her expectantly. Laura was spared the discomforting task of answering as the waiter arrived a moment later with their pizza.

Robbie and Laura each took a slice, and the waiter left. They sat in silence for a moment before Robbie spoke again.

"I meant what I said, Laura, every word of it. I have no intention of getting involved with Innocent. Besides, she's going to have her hands full keeping Malcolm at bay."

Hobson didn't say anything; she merely continued to chew her pizza.

Lewis reached across the table to touch the hand that rested beside Laura's plate.

"I _love_ you, Laura," he said sincerely.

They looked into each other's eyes for a minute.

"I love you too, Robbie," Laura finally said.

The moment ended when Lewis's mobile rang loudly. He removed his hand from Laura's and took the phone out of his pocket.

"Lewis," he said once he'd lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Sir," said Hathaway's voice. "Are you having a nice date? Tell the lovely doctor that I said 'hello.'"

"Laura, James says 'hello.'"

"Hello, James," Hobson said pleasantly.

After gesturing to Hobson, Lewis went off to go stand in a more private corner.

"This reminds me, James. Did you sign the sympathy card that I sent around for Innocent?"

"I'm actually trying to compose my message as we speak. It's difficult. I want to be comforting, but not _so _comforting that she thinks I'm questioning our personal and professional relationship."

"_Anything_will look acceptable after Malcolm's message. Did you read his?"

"I think so. His _is_ the one that begins with the saccharine metaphor about the rose that retains its loveliness even after the flash flood sweeps away all else—isn't it?"

"It is if it's the one that ends with 'I would love to offer my condolences in person over champagne. Why don't you stop by my hotel room anytime this week? Eternally Yours, Harvey.'"

"He's not exactly subtle, is he?" James said disgustedly.

"No, he's not." Lewis made a face.

"Oh, speaking of which, I just remembered why I called. You'll _never_ guess what Malcolm wants us to do next as part of our investigation."

"What?"

It was then that Hathaway shared the dreadful news.

"The perverted sod!" Lewis exclaimed. "How is that even relevant to the investigation?"

"Don't ask me!" Lewis heard Hathaway take a sharp intake of breath on the other line before continuing. "God! When Innocent finds out about this, she's going to kill us all!"

"Don't you mean_if_ she finds out?"

"No, I mean when_**.**_ I think our dear friend Harvey devised this entire exercise as a way of attracting her attention."

Lewis groaned. "Well, it will certainly do that! I just hope Malcolm is aware that it will attract the wrong kind of attention. When Innocent hears about it, she'll want to strangle him—not to shag him."

"You can say that again! Well, just thought that I'd let you know, sir. He wants to brief us on the assignment in an hour. He's expecting you back by then."

"But I'm on a date!"

"He knows. He says that a policeman's first duty is to his position—_not_ to affairs of the heart." Hathaway said, giving an excellent impression of Malcolm's most pompous manner.

"I've half a mind to tell him to follow his own advice!" Lewis said angrily.

"I've already told him for both of us."

Remembering James's uncooperative manner with Malcolm earlier, Robbie grew concerned that his sergeant was misbehaving again. "James, please remember what I said about Malcolm."

"Don't worry, Sir. I've been good. I've held my tongue as well as I possibly can."

"Well, just keep it up. I'd hate to think of what would happen if you got yourself suspended and I had to deal with Malcolm all by myself."

"You wouldn't be by yourself. Jean and Laura would still be very much on your side."

"_Jean_would be; I'm not so sure about Laura."

"Why? What's happened?"

"I mentioned that I found Innocent attractive, and now Laura's become a jealous wreck. First, she accused me of snogging Jean behind her back. Although I explained that I hadn't, she didn't seem to believe me. Then she accused me of conspiring to change the police romance policy so that I could 'pull a Hathaway' as she would have it once the policy changed. Finally, she accused me of encouraging your relationship with the chief super so that the two of you wouldn't threaten our relationship."

"I understand Jean as a threat to your relationship, but how do I fit into the equation?"

"Laura told me that she's always wanted to talk to another woman about what it's like to snog the dishy sergeant."

"So, _she's_ allowed to fantasize about kissing me, but you're not allowed to harbour even slightly romantic thoughts about Jean? That doesn't seem fair."

"No, it doesn't."

"Women are so irrational. My relationship with Innocent is no less complicated right now. I have to overanalyze everything that I say or do to make sure that she hasn't gotten the wrong impression."

"Just solve the case quickly and efficiently for her, and you'll be back in her good books in no time."

"I sincerely hope so. Any way, I'll let you get back to your date. See you in an hour."

"Bye," Robbie turned off his phone and went back to re-join Laura at the table.

"Sorry about that," he said.

The rest of their date went far better than before. Neither of them mentioned Jean or James, so the two of them were able to converse far more civilly than they had previously. True to his word, Robbie picked up the bill. However he did magnanimously let Laura leave a tip for the waiter at the pathologist's request. Afterward, Lewis dropped Hobson off at her house. Although Laura's goodnight kiss was a good deal less passionate than Lewis would have liked, it was, however, a more enthusiastic farewell than the one that Robbie had expected, given the rocky start to their date.

Then Lewis drove back to the office so that he and James could be briefed on their horrifying new assignment.


	9. 9: Malcolm's Mistake

Chapter Nine- Malcolm's Mistake

Detective Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent looked down at the card in her hand. Nearly all of her colleagues had signed it, and some had written little messages as well. Jean glanced down at Hathaway's message. James had evidently tried very hard to express genuine sympathy but had obviously been afraid of coming across too strongly. The result was a brief, reticent, and very formal message that lacked any real sentiment whatsoever.

Harvey Malcolm, on the other hand, had seemed to have the opposite problem. He had attempted to disguise his elation that Jean was now single as sincere sorrow for John's death. Innocent had already resolved to refuse Malcolm's champagne invitation; she remembered far too well how quickly Harvey lost his veneer of charisma once he'd had a glass or two.

It was Lewis's message, however, that had intrigued Jean the most. Like Hathaway's, Lewis's message was also brief, but it contained the compassion and real understanding that was absent in the sergeant's note. This was unsurprising. Lewis had experienced his own heartbreak when Val, his wife of so many years, had been killed in a hit-and-run accident.

After another lonely evening and sleepless night, Innocent had realized that what she really needed was someone in whom to confide. She was surprised that it had taken an office sympathy card to make her realize that DI Robbie Lewis was the perfect person. Alone of all their colleagues, Robbie fully comprehended the pain that Jean was now experiencing.

Innocent walked over to Lewis's office and knocked lightly on the door.

"Lewis," she called.

A few seconds later, Robbie opened the door.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you have a minute? I'd like to talk—if that's alright."

Lewis frowned. "Now's not really the best time."

"It'll only take a moment," Innocent said. She took another step toward the open door but Lewis blocked her path.

"Alright, but why don't we talk in your office?" he said, gesturing outside of the room.

"What's wrong with yours?"

"Er… well... er… it's a bit… messy… if you want the truth."

"You never cared that your office was messy before," Jean said, eying the inspector suspiciously.

"Well… I… I figure it's about time to _start_ caring," said Robbie. He gave what he clearly thought was a convincing smile.

Innocent wasn't fooled. "Robbie, is there something in there that you don't want me to see?"

"No, ma'am," Lewis muttered, fidgeting and staring down guiltily at his feet.

"You _may___be a brilliant inspector, Robert Lewis, but you are _also___a terrible liar!" Innocent shouted, pushing Lewis aside and walking into his office.

Lewis had not been lying when he had claimed the room was messy. Piles of clothing completely covered both Lewis's and Hathaway's desks as well as much as the floor. Jean picked up a blouse from one of the piles. It looked disturbingly familiar.

"Is this _mine_?" a horrified Jean asked, holding up the shirt to Robbie.

"Yes, it is my dove! How clever of you to figure it out so quickly."

Innocent had not initially noticed Harvey Malcolm when she'd entered the room, but now she observed him standing beside James's desk. Malcolm was rifling through a bag of what looked like lingerie—quite probably Jean's own. Jean felt her blood start to boil. As much as she detested Malcolm, Innocent had never suspected that the man would stoop _that___low. Based on the way that Hathaway was grimacing disgustedly beside Malcolm, it was apparent that the sergeant felt just as Jean did.

Innocent took a deep breath to calm herself and then spoke. "Would you kindly leave the room—James, Robbie? I'd like a word with Mr. Malcolm about ethical police behavior."

Lewis immediately left the room, delighted to avoid the uncomfortable conversation that was sure to transpire. Hathaway, though, paused at the door.

"I want you to know, ma'am, that I was against this from the start," James said before exiting and shutting the door behind him, leaving Innocent alone with Malcolm.

Jean walked over to the desk where Harvey was standing.

"What is the meaning of this?" she said, gesturing furiously at the bag.

"I should _think___the meaning of this is quite clear. I'm conducting a thorough investigation."

"A___thorough investigation_!" Jean clenched her teeth in fury.

"Yes, my darling. It's not unusual for the police to confiscate the personal belongings of a suspect in a case."

"It is when the so-called suspect has an iron-clad alibi and no motive! The fact that I'm not a suspect seems to have escaped the undersized brain in your overlarge head. "

"Oh, I know that you're not a suspect, my love, but I need to consider every possible angle. The real murderer may have used your clothes to mop up blood or something."

"So you're going to steal all of my clothes to examine that _remote_ possibility?"

"But I haven't taken _all_ of your clothes. You still have the ones on your back—though I will have to take a look at those as well. Tell you what—why don't I help you out of those so that I can examine them right now and then you can take them with you?" Malcolm leaned forward to undo the top button of Innocent's blouse.

Jean took a step away from him.

"Touch me again, Malcolm, and I swear that I'll report you!"

Harvey studied her appraisingly. "You weren't always such a prude. I suppose being married to that Puritan for so long has mellowed you out a bit."

"John Innocent was ten-times the man that you'll ever be!"

"You always did have a poor memory. Didn't you, Jean?" Harvey said, laughing heartily.

She gave him a final vitriolic glare and then started for the door.

"Wait!" Malcolm shouted suddenly. "I give up; I'll let you have your clothes back… on one condition."

_'Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going to like this,'_ Innocent thought to herself as she turned to face Malcolm.

Malcolm held up a lacy slip of deep purple. "Would you mind modeling this for me?"

Jean took another several paces toward the door.

"Oh, come on, Jean. It's the least you owe me."

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing angrily. "I owe you _nothing_."

"Your memory must be worse than I thought if you've forgotten who almost single-handedly orchestrated your rise to power."

Innocent was shocked that Malcolm had the audacity to consider himself an instrument of her success. If Jean were to credit anyone (other than herself, of course) for her accomplishments, she would have recognized her inspector Kevin Felmen. Malcolm certainly ranked very low in her list of mentors.

Malcolm walked over to her and began to circle her like a vulture.

"Who found the poor little lost sergeant and took her under his wing? _I___did. Who ensured that she got assigned to the best inspector on the force? _I___did. Who put in a glowing recommendation to Rookwood so that she might be considered for inspector after only three years as a sergeant? _I _did. Who helped her pass her inspector's course? _I___did. Who introduced her to her _perfect___husband?___I___did. Who didn't even shed a tear when she was promoted over him, despite her lack of experience?___I___did."

"I never asked you to do any of that!"

"Well, you _certainly_ begged for my help on the Richard Trout case. You were sobbing and wailing like a banshee until I came to save your pretty little neck! Face facts, Jean. You're _nothing_ without me."

He stopped circling her and grabbed her suddenly, forcing his mouth to hers. Innocent aimed a kick at his knees and firmly pushed him away from her where he fell loudly on his rear end. Laughing at Malcolm's pathetic groan of pain, Jean Innocent exited the room, slamming the door behind her. She wiped Malcolm's kiss off with her hand, and started for her office. Noticing Lewis and Hathaway standing a few feet away from her, she changed her direction and moved toward the two detectives who were whispering intently to each other.

"Robbie, you were right about your office being an inappropriate place to talk. Can you meet me in _my _office in about a half-hour?"

"Very good, ma'am," Lewis said before rejoining Malcolm in the office.

"Ma'am?" said Hathaway inquiringly as Innocent turned again to leave.

"Yes?"

"I… I… er… Malcolm didn't try anything funny with you just now—did he?"

"Oh, he _tried__**,**_ I just ensured that he didn't _succeed_."

"Listen, if he tries something again, let me know. I'll make sure that he gets the message."

"Let me take care of myself."

"I thought that policemen were supposed to 'prevent other people's battles from occurring.' I'd blame myself if I didn't follow proper procedure and someone got hurt."

She studied him curiously. She had a vague memory of Hathaway stating that he'd forgotten much of what had transpired between them two nights ago. Yet, James had been able to clearly remember the advice that she'd given to him that night. She wondered what else he remembered and if it was possible that he hadn't been as drunk as he'd appeared to be. She shook herself to banish these thoughts.

"James," she said finally. "Just… just… don't do anything stupid."

He smiled wryly, obviously thinking as she was about the kiss. "I think it's a little late for that, ma'am."

The two stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment. Then, Innocent ended the silence. "What's done is done. Please, just don't do anything else that I would disapprove of. I don't want to suspend you, James."

"And I don't want to be suspended, but I'd rather be suspended than to have something happen to you."

The chief superintendent blushed, half-touched that Hathaway cared that much about her and half-worried that he cared for the wrong reasons. "I can take care of myself," she said finally, looking him in the eye.

"Very well, I guess I'll take you at your word—for now."

"Good," she said brusquely.

James returned to Lewis's office, and Jean began walking to her own. Her thoughts were alternately divided between the two men that had kissed her in the past forty-eight hours—one who'd tried to assault her virtue and one who'd sworn to defend it, one who she still believed in despite his history of procedural missteps and one who she distrusted despite all of the things that he had done for her. She only hoped that the case would be resolved before the two men acted upon the friction that had built up between them.


	10. 10: A Telephone Call

Chapter 10-A Telephone Call

Detective Sergeant James Hathaway sat at his desk. He was alone in the office; Lewis had gone off to talk with Innocent, and Malcolm had taken an early lunch.

Hathaway absently flipped through the papers on his desk, fervently hoping that inspiration would strike. It had been a long time since he and Lewis had been this bewildered as to where to start on a case. Usually, leads just came to them without their needing to seek them out.

James felt a sudden vibration in his pocket. He withdrew his mobile and placed it up to his ear.

"Hathaway."

"It's good to hear your voice again, James," said Fiona McKendrick on the other end.

"Fiona?"

"Yes, it's me. How are things in good old Oxford?"

James sighed. "In a word: _complicated_."

Fiona's voice took on a solemn tone. "I see. I heard about Innocent. It's terrible—isn't it? How is she?"

"I'm … I'm not really sure. She…she seems alright for the most part, but I think that's probably just her way of coping. You know, trying to keep with business as usual?"

"That _does___sound like her. Poor thing! I hope they catch whoever did it soon."

"Well, Lewis and I are on the case, and I can tell you that we're putting all of our brainpower into trying to find the killer."

"That's a relief." Fiona paused as they both said a silent prayer that the chief superintendent would have her justice soon. "Did the chief constable send someone else to supervise the case in Innocent's place?"

"Yes, he did in fact. He sent your old 'friend,' Harvey Malcolm formerly of Scotland Yard."

There was a profound silence as Fiona processed what Hathaway had just said.

"Is he mad?" Fiona said, horrified at the thought.

"Who—Malcolm or the chief constable? Never mind! Now that I think on it, it doesn't really matter. They're___both_ mad in my books!"

"I know it's not very professional of me, but I really wish you'd give Malcolm a good kick—just once."

It was a very tempting thought. James contemplated this for a moment before he responded. "I would—but I figure I'm in enough trouble already."

"James, you naughty boy!" she teased. "What have you done this time?"

'_If only you knew'_

"Well…amongst other things, I've nearly come to blows with Malcolm a number of times. He's after Innocent now—and well, I feel a natural need to protect her." Hathaway did not add that his "natural need to protect Innocent" was largely prompted by guilt for the unwanted advances he himself had made to the chief superintendent while under the influence of alcohol.

"What do mean 'He's after Innocent _now_? I think she's the one he wanted all along."

"Pardon?"

"It's just…when I first came to Scotland Yard, Malcolm pestered me for news of Oxford, and he asked after the chief superintendent specifically. He continued to bombard me with questions when he learned that I had maintained contact with you. And later, when he was being his most odious, I could've sworn he called me 'Jean' a number of times. I'm a detective, James; I can put two and two together."

"But why would Malcolm pick you to harass? You and Innocent don't look anything alike."

"True, but our personalities are fairly similar. Innocent's old inspector Mr. Felmen has even told me that I remind him of a young Jean. I suspect that Malcolm's just suffering from a severe case of displacement."

"What?" James asked, still confused as to where Fiona was going with this.

"Displacement, as in the psychological term. You know… when you're unable to show your true feelings to the person they're directed to so you take out your emotions on someone else?"

He considered this for a moment. "So you're saying that, because Malcolm can't have Innocent, he goes after the next best thing—namely, you?"

"That's my theory, at least."

And it was an interesting theory at that. Now that James thought about, Fiona and Innocent did have a bit in common. It was possible that Fiona's displacement theory might explain not only Malcolm's harassment of Fiona, but also Hathaway's own behavior with Innocent. It all made sense now! He hadn't wanted Jean that night; he'd wanted Fiona. His brain must have subconsciously made a connection between the two of them! Hathaway breathed a sigh of relief, delighted to have found a justification for his actions that didn't end in his secretly lusting after Jean Innocent.

'You're_ refusing to consider the other possibility'_ said a traitorous voice in his head, '_that your relationship with Fiona was merely a way of dealing with repressed feelings for the chief superintendent.'_

"No, that can't be right!" he angrily told the voice.

"Oh, you're free to disagree, James," said Fiona. "As I told you before, it's only a theory."

Hathaway hadn't realized that he had spoken this last thought aloud. He panicked for a second as he wondered if he had accidentally vocalized his previous thoughts on the subject.

"Oh no, Fiona. I wasn't talking to you. Actually, I think that your idea has great potential. I was… just…er…thinking aloud."

"Feel like sharing?"

James was suddenly very glad that Fiona could not see his flaming cheeks. "Er…no…not really. It's…it's nothing important. So, how are things with you?"

"Alright, I'm up to my neck in wedding plans."

"Ah," James said simply.

Fiona must have sensed his reluctance to discuss her upcoming marriage for she quickly changed the subject."And the case I've just finished depressed the hell out of me."

"Really? What was it about?" he asked, hoping that she was exaggerating the case's impact on her.

"It was a suicide, a man named Frederick Smythe. You might hear a bit about it in your papers. Mr. Smythe was very affluent, and he donated a great deal of money to the colleges in Oxford."

"What exactly was so tragic about Mr. Smythe's circumstances?"

"Well, _everything_ really. His life was just one tragedy after another: his mother had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer, his teenaged son died in a car crash two years ago, and there's the whole business with Smythe's sister."

James was curious, in spite of himself. "What business with Smythe's sister?"

"Smythe's younger sister Amanda was raped and murdered several years ago."

"That's horrible!"

"It gets worse. The man that they think was behind the murder, well…he got off. All the evidence pointed to him, but he still got off. He _was_ convicted of a lesser charge, but still, it's not the same. I imagine it must have been torture for Smythe, knowing that the man who killed his sister is recognized as innocent in the eyes of the law."

"That is a lot to deal with."

"Yeah, it is."

Silence followed.

"Not to end this conversation, abruptly," said Fiona, "but I'm getting another call. Do you mind if I take it?"

"That's fine. Goodbye, Fiona."

"Goodbye, James."

Both of them hung up. James sat at his desk for a moment, replaying the entire conversation in his mind. He resolved that he'd have to talk to Lewis—and possibly Innocent as well—about Malcolm as soon as possible. If Harvey really was as obsessed with Jean as Fiona seemed to think, then, it was plausible that Malcolm might have killed Mr. Innocent.

Hathaway rose to his feet. It would be best to explore this theory now—while Malcolm was still away. He walked over to Innocent's office. He was about to go in when the door opened on its own. Laura Hobson walked out, sniffling slightly.

"Hello, James," she muttered, half-heartedly.

Her melancholy demeanor worried him, as did her red-rimmed eyes.

"Laura," Hathaway said carefully, "is anything the matter?"

The pathologist didn't say anything; she didn't need to. The answer was as plain as the nose on her face. Eventually, she nodded. James instinctively knew that his friend needed him right now. Robbie and Jean would just have to wait.

"Do you want to talk about it? You know that I'm always willing to listen."

Hobson scrutinized him for a moment, as though she was determining how much she trusted him. Then, she nodded again.


	11. 11: Comfort Elsewhere

Chapter Eleven- Comfort Elsewhere

"You asked to see me, ma'am?"

"Yes, Robbie. Please, come in."

Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis walked into his superior's office and sat in the indicated chair.

"I just wanted to thank you in person for what you wrote," Innocent said.

"Wrote?"

"The sympathy card."

Lewis nodded. "Ah, yes."

"It was beautiful, Robbie. Absolutely beautiful."

He shrugged. "I've been there before."

"I was especially moved by the one passage, the part about feeling as though part of you had died as well. That's exactly how I feel."

Lewis fidgeted uncomfortably. Even after all these years, Val was still a painful subject with him.

"I just wanted to ask you something—since you seem to understand so well what I'm going through."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"How did you cope?"

A weighty silence overtook the pair of them. Robbie had known this question was coming and had dreaded it, but he still hadn't worked out a polite way of refusing to answer. He finally spoke, his voice faltering every so often as he tried to work through his emotions.

"You don't. Not really anyway."

Innocent's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"I…" Lewis stared down at his hands. He took a deep breath and continued. "Did Strange ever tell you why I was sent to the Virgin Islands?"

"No, he didn't, but I've heard… rumours." The chief superintendent paused and reached up to touch her earring thoughtfully. "I chose to disregard them."

"You shouldn't have, ma'am. They were true." Robbie swallowed the lump that was slowly building in his throat. "Every day after… after I lost Val, I felt like I had to force myself out of bed in the morning. I thought that going back to work might help—I couldn't bring Val back, but there was still a lot that could… distract me. But all I found at work was more of what I found at home—death, despair, pain. I thought me children might help, but me daughter had her own life and career to think about. And … me son… well, by that time, he was halfway across the world."

He glanced up briefly and saw that Innocent was staring at him intently, her face a curious blend of understanding and pity. Lewis could not bear to meet her gaze for more than a moment so he looked down at his hands again.

"So, I sought comfort elsewhere. I drank every day until I forgot my sorrow for a time. Strange knew, but he chose to ignore it. He … he wasn't nearly as… involved as you are, ma'am."

Innocent smiled weakly. "So I've heard."

Robbie continued. "Eventually, Strange could no longer ignore it; it was affecting me work performance. So… he shipped me off to a place where I'd be out of his hair."

"Oh, Robbie! I didn't mean to…"

He raised up his hands in a placating gesture. "You asked a question, and I owe you an honest answer. You need to know what it feels like. I only hope that _you _don't feel so horribly lonely that you act as recklessly as I did."

"Was no one there for you?"

"Well, Lyn was always good about calling, but she was always so busy with school—and with her boyfriend."

"But there was no one else?"

"Well, Dr. Hobson was always good to me, now that I think about it. She'd sometimes stop by without a body prompting her visit—just to talk."

"I wonder if she had feelings for you even then.'

Robbie blushed slightly. "You'd have to take that up with Laura."

"I'm not sure that's the best idea. She … she seems to dislike me for some reason. I can't imagine why."

Robbie, of course, knew exactly why Laura disliked Jean, but he didn't really feel like explaining. Besides, he wasn't really sure that Innocent would believe him if he told her.

"I'm sure you're just imagining it. _Of course,_ she likes you."

"Forgive me for not believing that. She certainly likes _you_**,** however."

"Yes," Robbie said, smiling happily. "I suppose she does."

"Are you happy, Robbie—with Dr. Hobson, I mean?"

"I… I am," Robbie said aloud. '_Or at least I __**was**__, before she got so bloody jealous'_ he added silently.

"I'm glad," Innocent said.

"Thank you. I hope someday you find a 'Dr. Hobson' of your own."

Innocent looked embarrassed. "Robbie, I'm not looking for…"

Robbie mentally cursed his own stupidity. Why did he always say the wrong thing—particularly when he was talking to women? Of course, Jean wouldn't be looking for someone to take her husband's place so soon after John Innocent's death.

"Oh, I understand. Right after Val died, the absolute last thing I wanted was to move on and look for someone else. I needed the time to grieve. But after awhile, I found someone that could make me happy again, and I didn't feel quite so alone any more. Maybe the same will happen to you. Just promise me: that however lonely you feel, you'll never look to Harvey Malcolm for comfort."

Jean snorted. "Believe me; I have absolutely no intention of ever doing that!"

Lewis felt nerves rising in him. This was the opening he needed. He knew that he'd have to get to the bottom of Innocent's relationship with the temporary superintendent, but after the way, Innocent had lashed out at James yesterday, Robbie was especially hesitant about prying further into the chief superintendent's sexual history. Eventually, he swallowed his pride and spoke.

"Er…, ma'am? What exactly is the story between you and Mr. Malcolm? James and I need to know—for your own safety as well as the sanctity of the case. I mean, Malcolm all-but-sexually harassed you in our presence yesterday, and all you did was give him a dirty look!"

Innocent rose from her seat and walked away from Robbie, keeping her eyes firmly planted on the floor.

"Harvey and I … we... were… 'involved' years ago when we both worked for Scotland Yard. And _yes_, it was forbidden then just as it would be now." She glanced back at Lewis. "I'm not proud of it."

Lewis's jaw dropped. The idea of his procedure-happy chief superintendent bending her precious rules to suit her own desires seemed utterly ridiculous—and yet, it did seem to tie in with Malcolm's comment about having once been " very good friends" with Innocent.

"Let me get this right. You and Malcolm were…?"

She nodded.

"But you're _much_ too good for the likes of him!"

"Believe it or not—Harvey Malcolm can be quite charming when he really wants to be."

"I'm sorry, but I _don't___believe it."

Innocent shrugged and then resumed her story. "One night, Harvey and I were at a party, and he introduced me to his friend and former neighbor: a Mr. John Innocent."

Lewis cocked a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes, Robbie. It was 'the' Mr. Innocent."

"Go on, ma'am."

"John and I… we really seemed to hit it off. So, later that week, Mr. Innocent called and asked me if I'd like to have dinner with him. I said yes."

"Bet Malcolm wasn't too happy about that."

"I… I didn't tell him. I wasn't sure of how he'd react. So anyway, I met Mr. Innocent for dinner. Once again, I was struck by how well we got along. To be perfectly honest, I was starting to get a bit fed up with my arrangement with Harvey. I _did_ care about him, but I still felt terrible about breaking the rules the way we were. For Harvey, it was a thrill, but for me… well," she gestured at Robbie. "You know from experience how important professional behavior is to me."

He smiled wryly at her. "That I do, Ma'am."

She continued. "When I met John, I knew right away that I had found someone that I could feel attracted to—possibly even _love_—without feeling guilty or having to hide anything. The security he offered made Mr. Innocent even more appealing to me than he already was. Therefore, I ended my relationship with Harvey and continued to see John."

"How did Malcolm take the news?"

"As you can believe, he was furious. I don't think he ever got over it."

"What do you mean?" Robbie asked, wondering if it was possible that he had uncovered another suspect in Mr. Innocent's demise.

"Well, at first, he was in denial. He flatly refused to believe that relationship was over. He seemed to believe that I was using John in an attempt to make him jealous. Eventually, Harvey caught on to the truth, but that didn't stop him from attempting to rekindle our relationship. Harvey's inability to leave the past behind him was what ultimately clued me into the fact that I had made the right decision by choosing John. When Malcolm finally realized that his professions of undying love were falling on deaf ears, he became a bit more forceful in expressing his desires. He began to… pressure me."

"Pressure you—how exactly?"

"Use your imagination, Robbie." Seeing the look of extreme distaste on the inspector's face, Jean continued. "Thanks to a little ingenuity and a lot of pepper spray, I was able to hold him off for awhile. Eventually, he got to be a bit too much for me to handle. I requested a transfer and ended up here, but Malcolm still wouldn't leave me alone. He'd just show up in Oxford unexpectedly every so often to try to persuade me to come back to him."

"Why didn't you report him?"

"Call me a coward if you like, but I was saving my own neck."

"Really? I mean… I'll admit entering into a romantic relationship with one of your colleagues was a bit…dodgy of you, but Malcolm's behavior was so much worse. I 'd have thought that everyone would've been on _your_ side."

"There's more to it. My relationship with Harvey Malcolm lasted for a very long time. At its inception, I was a sergeant and he was an inspector. And no, Robbie—Malcolm was not _my___inspector. I would never have let myself get involved in something _that_unsavoury. Anyway, about a year-and-a-half into my 'secret relationship' with Malcolm, I received an unexpected promotion. I was quite bemused at that—for I had only been a sergeant for a few short years. I would later learn that Harvey had pulled a few strings to ensure that I was the one who received the newly vacant inspector's post. I can personally assure you that I never asked or expected Malcolm to do any of this. But …can you see how this might've looked to the chief constable?"

Lewis nodded. "I can, ma'am."

"It didn't help that I was quite unpopular at Scotland Yard."

"Well, ma'am, you're quite popular here. Sure, you _may___drive us to the brink of madness sometimes, but we know that—deep down—you really care about us. You've always got our backs so I think it's fair to remind you that we've always got yours."

Innocent gave a tentative smile. "Thank you."

He rose from his seat and turned to go, but her voice stopped him.

"Robbie, looking back, I realize that asking you about your wife was a very poor choice on my part. My behavior was quite selfish; I only cared about purging my own grief and didn't give a second thought to your feelings. I guess I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

He glanced back at her in genuine surprise, shocked that—for once in her life—Innocent was freely apologizing for something she'd done. He looked at her face and noticed a tiny glint beside her left eye. Robbie knew it must have been a trick of the light—for the alternative seemed inconceivable. Jean Innocent _couldn't_ be crying. She wasn't the sensitive, sentimental type that drowned all of her sorrows in a flood of tears; she was a strong, sophisticated woman who held her head high even when the world was collapsing around her.

Lewis took another step toward the chief superintendent and realized that he could no longer deny the evidence that was right in front of him. Yes, Jean Innocent _was_stubborn, reserved, and tough, but she was _also_ human.

He walked over to her and gently tilted her chin upward. "I know that it's difficult, ma'am, but you'll be alright. It just takes time."

She didn't say anything but merely looked at him curiously.

"Trust me."

"I do, but it's just so hard," Jean said. She finally stopped trying to repress her tears, and they fell openly, cascading gracefully down her cheeks.

Although he'd never have admitted it to anyone, Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis had always had a profound weakness for women's tears. Whenever his children had fought, he'd always taken Lyn's side. It wasn't that he had always believed that she was in the right or (as his son had suspected) that Lewis had loved his daughter more. He simply couldn't bear to see her—or any other female—cry. The fact that the woman crying in front of him _now_ was his seemingly-invincible boss made Lewis feel even more uncomfortable.

He drew Innocent to him and let her sob into his shoulder as he patted her awkwardly on the back.

"I know, I know. It's the hardest thing that I had to go through, but I survived. And you will too."

Her tears slowed a bit, and Robbie stood there, trying to think of something to say that might further reassure her. Finally something came to him.

"Just promise me that you'll remember that you'll remember that you're not alone, Jean. There are plenty of people who care about you. You know that I do. And anytime you need me, I'll be right here."

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind them. As though of one mind, Lewis and Innocent broke apart and spun around. Laura Hobson had entered the room so quietly that neither of them had previously been aware of her presence. Hobson stared at both of them, a betrayed look on her lovely face.

"Laura, this isn't … what it looks like. She…"

Hobson gave a cold laugh. "Oh, I think that this is exactly what it looks like. Funnily enough, I seem to remember someone saying that Jean Innocent wasn't his type. Oh, how the tables have turned!"

"Dr. Hobson, if you'll let me explain. Inspector Lewis was just… you see… I was crying… and he…"

Laura shot Jean a look that clearly said something along the lines of "_If you come within a foot of Robbie Lewis again, I'll give you something to cry about!"_

"I was just trying to comfort her, Laura. Nothing happened, I swear it!"

"I don't want to listen to either of your excuses. Here's the post-mortem report on Mrs. Harrigan that you requested, Jean." Hobson handed Innocent a stack of papers and bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Well, _that_ didn't go well," Innocent muttered once Hobson had gone.

"On the contrary, that was almost an improvement from the way she was last night."

"I can just imagine. I'm very sorry, Robbie. It was not my intent to make trouble."

"I know."

"I could try talking to Dr. Hobson for you. I'll place all of the blame on me, you needn't worry."

"No offense, ma'am, but I doubt Laura will put much stock in anything you say."

Innocent bit her lip in thought. "You're probably right. It's very clear that—despite what you may say to the contrary—Laura Hobson heartily dislikes me. I suppose this _also _leaves me without a place to stay."

"You can always stay with me, ma'am."

She sighed. "That's very sweet of you, Robbie, but can't you see that that would just make everything worse for you and Laura?"

"Oh, I …er… I hadn't thought of that."

"I suppose I'll just have to ask your sergeant. I doubt he'll be very keen on the idea—neither am I, come to think of it. But when you consider that my other prospect is Malcolm…"

"I'm sure Hathaway will understand, ma'am."

A knock sounded at the door, and the voice of the chief superintendent's secretary spoke.

"Ma'am, a package has just arrived for you."

"Bring it in, Camille."

The secretary walked into the room, carrying a large box, which she placed on Innocent's desk. She then left the room. The chief superintendent carefully opened the box and withdrew a stack of papers. Her face took on a bewildered expression.

"What is it, ma'am?"

"Well, I think these are funeral invitations, but I don't recall placing an order."

"That's odd."

"It certainly is."

Innocent continued to look at the invitations. Suddenly, she let out an odd little gasp.

"What's wrong, ma'am?" Lewis asked, concerned at how pale the chief superintendent had become in only a few seconds.

"It must be a mistake," Jean said, forcing a nervous laugh. "There's only a two-letter difference in the names anyway."

Lewis walked over to her.

"Let me see."

Innocent reluctantly handed him one of the invitations. Lewis read it until he found what he had expected to find. It was not John Innocent's funeral that the piece of paper that the piece of paper foretold; it was the funeral of Lewis's very-much-alive chief superintendent.


	12. 12: Occupational Hazards

Chapter Twelve—Occupational Hazards

DS James Hathaway sat outside, staring blankly at the dark, moonless night as he waited for his reluctant visitor to arrive. James carefully rubbed his aching forehead in an attempt to lessen his severe migraine. Hathaway was used to combating this sort of stress by having a cigarette or two, but lately he'd committed himself to the very difficult task of curing his nicotine addiction.

Ironically, the urge to smoke had recently proven to be one of the easiest impulses to resist. He'd already indulged in the perverse desires of his subconscious mind by snogging his boss. Furthermore, the sergeant strongly doubted that he'd be able to last another day without causing serious bodily harm to Harvey Malcolm.

The sergeant rose to his feet as he saw a car pull into his driveway. A moment later, Innocent stepped out of the car, removed an enormous suitcase from the trunk, and walked over to him.

"Hi, James," the chief superintendent said curtly when she'd finally reached him.

He returned her salutation and then asked her if she wanted help with her suitcase.

"No," she said quickly.

"Are you sure? It looks a bit heavy."

"It's _not_," she said obstinately, though Hathaway could see that she was struggling to maintain her grip on it.

He took the suitcase out of her hands anyway, and surprisingly, the chief superintendent did not offer any further protestations.

He quickly ushered her into his house. Neither of them wanted to remain on his doorstep any longer than was absolutely necessary—as they both remembered what had happened the last time that had stood there together.

He placed the suitcase down and then collapsed onto the sofa. Innocent sat beside him.

"I'm sorry about this inconvenience, James."

"It's really no trouble," the sergeant responded aloud. To himself, he added "Provided that I stay sane and sober this time."

"Are you _sure_ you don't mind my spending the night on your couch?"

"Would you _prefer _the couch? I was going to offer you my bed."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, James regretted them. He wished he'd stopped to consider the potential sexual implications of his wording before vocalizing his thoughts. It seemed that he could no longer say anything to Innocent without running the risk of serious misinterpretation .The damned kiss had ruined everything between them!

Now blushing furiously, Hathaway continued. "Ma'am…when I said that…I didn't mean… That is to say…I… I only meant it in the interest in chivalry. The bed is far more comfortable, and I'm perfectly willing to sleep on the couch. _Alone._ Just as _you'd_ be alone in my…in _the_ bed."

Innocent looked uncomfortable. "James, I… I understood you the first time."

He sighed in relief. "You…you did?"

"Yes, I did."

The sergeant stared down at his hands, mentally cursing himself for making the situation even more awkward than it already was.

"Anyway, I think I'd prefer the sofa. I expect that I'll be staying up pretty late tonight," Hathaway said once he'd rebuilt the courage to look Innocent in the eye again.

"Working on the case?"

Hathaway nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Our paperwork has doubled after the death threat that you received this morning…"

Innocent got up off the couch. "It _wasn't_ a death threat," the chief superintendent said emphatically as she turned her back to him. "It was a printing error."

He walked over to her and reeled her around to face him. "It was a printing error that foretold your _funeral,_ Jean."

The chief superintendent flinched slightly upon hearing her subordinate utter her Christian name. "Don't call me that. It's thoroughly unprofessional."

Hathaway gazed at her in astonishment. "You _really _still care about proper procedure when your very life as at risk?"

"I _always_ care about proper procedure—and my life is _not_ at risk!" Innocent exclaimed.

Hathaway took another step toward her. "We have to consider that possibility."

The chief super rolled her eyes. "It's a _remote _possibility."

"_And_ a grave one. I want you to promise that you'll be careful, ma'am—or Lewis and I might get stuck with Harvey Malcolm as our supervisor for the rest of our careers."

"God, that _would_ be torture! If I were in your place, I'd end up killing myself after only a few weeks."

For a minute, Jean Innocent looked so somber and forlorn that the sergeant grew concerned that his chief superintendent might have been serious. James gently tilted Innocent's chin upward so that their eyes met.

"Don't say things like that."

"James, I was joking…" she protested, jerking her chin out of his grasp and taking a few steps away from him.

"Many a true word was said in jest. You're going through a very dark and difficult time right now. After you've gotten over the initial shock, the despair will start to sink in. Eventually, you may start to feel as though ending your life is the only way to end your sorrow. But it's _not."_

She studied him intently. "You speak as though you know what this feels like."

"I _do,_" he said quietly. James paused before continuing. "Do you…do you remember the Zelinsky case?"

Innocent didn't respond, but Hathaway knew that she remembered. It wasn't the sort of case that one was able to forget very easily.

"I was more-than-a-little depressed after that case. Actually, 'depressed' is a bit of an understatement, now that I think on it. Melancholy dominated my every waking hour, and I was afraid to go to sleep. If I closed my eyes for even a second, I saw the face of that murdered ten-year-old. There were times that I didn't know who I hated more: Zelinsky—for killing the girl—or myself—for being unable to save her."

Innocent took one of the sergeant's hands in one of her own. "James, what Zelinsky did was unforgivable, but it was in _no_ way your fault." She gaze his hand a small squeeze.

"I know that _now_, but there was no way of convincing me of that _then_." Hathaway wrenched his hand from Innocent's grasp and turned his back to the chief super. "One day, the misery got so bad that I didn't think that I could handle it any more." The sergeant paused to take a deep breath before continuing his story. "So, after I returned home from work, I went straight to my medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of sleeping pills. Then, I got myself a glass of water, and poured about a dozen pills into my hand." Innocent gasped, and Hathaway continued. "Yes, ma'am, I was seriously about to go through with it."

"What stopped you?"

He turned to look at her again. "_You _did. Just as I was about to…about to end it all, my mobile started ringing. I answered it and heard your voice on the other end. I can't remember most of what you said—just that you wanted to thank me for all of the hard work and dedication that I'd put in. Anyway, the last thing you said to me on that night was something along the lines of 'I honestly don't know what I would do without you, James.' After we'd both hung up, I returned the sleeping pills to their bottle and dumped the glass of water into the sink. That night, you made it clear that you needed me, and in doing so, you saved my life."

She stared at him incredulously. "James, I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything, but try to remember that I need you. I need you, just as much—if not _more _than—you need me."

The sergeant suddenly realized how that must have sounded, and rushed to clarify. "In a strictly platonic way," he added quickly.

They avoided one another's gazes as a long, tense silence ensued. Eventually, Innocent spoke. "It's pretty late; I really should be getting to bed. Good night, James."

"Good night."

The chief superintendent grabbed her suitcase before retreating into Hathaway's bedroom. James walked back over to the couch and reached into the briefcase beside it. He removed the large pile of case files that he had gathered for the investigation. He and Lewis had collected information on every single case that Innocent had worked on in any capacity—as constable, sergeant, inspector, and chief superintendent. The pair had then divided the files between them and resolved to look over as many as possible before the next morning.

Hathaway worked for a few hours with little success. Hathaway decided to give Lewis a call to see if his partner had experienced any more luck.

However, when the sergeant picked up his mobile, he noticed that the battery on his phone was critically low. He needed to charge it before tomorrow, but—if Hathaway was remembering correctly—he'd left the charger on his bedside table. He certainly couldn't go into his room while Innocent was sleeping in his bed.

_Or could he?_

James looked down at his watch. It was 2:30 a.m. Innocent was surely asleep by this time. All Hathaway had to do was sneak into the room, grab what he needed, and leave. Innocent would never have to know.

The door to his bedroom gave a small creak when Hathaway opened it. James stopped in his tracks, convinced that the sound would wake Innocent. He waited a few seconds, but the chief superintendent did not stir. Hathaway then tiptoed into the room, and walked over to his bedside table. He picked up the charger and turned to go, but Innocent's voice stopped him.

"Please, don't do this."

Hathaway stood completely immobile for a full minute before he realized that the chief superintendent was not talking to him. In fact, Innocent had cried out in her sleep.

"Richard, you've caused enough trouble for yourself already. This will only make everything worse."

Who the hell was Richard, and what had he done that had Innocent so concerned?

"Please!" Innocent was practically sobbing by now. "You need to stop. Richard, no! Please, stop! I'll do anything."

At this point, Hathaway thought about waking Innocent. He felt horrible just standing there, listening to her desperately call for help in her sleep. Besides, this Richard—whoever he was—obviously had an enormous emotional impact on Innocent, and he was therefore a potential suspect.

But waking Jean right now would surely result in some sort of repercussion. Hathaway strongly suspected that if he put another toe out of line, Innocent would immediately sack him without pausing to ask any questions.

The sergeant was still trying to decide what to do when Innocent ended up making up Hathaway's mind for him. The chief superintendent awoke suddenly and sat up in the bed. She placed her hand on her heart and took several deep breaths to calm herself. Then, Innocent noticed Hathaway, standing beside the bed and staring at her. The chief super instinctively pulled the covers tighter around her.

"What are you doing in here?" Jean snapped. "I thought we agreed that you were sleeping on the couch!"

"I only came in here to get this," Hathaway said, holding up the mobile phone charger in his hand. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

To his relief, Innocent seemed to buy his excuse. "Fine. Just please leave now so that I can go back to sleep."

"First, you need to tell me who Richard is. You kept calling his name out in your sleep. It sounded serious."

Innocent sighed. "Very well, then. One of the occupational hazards of being a police officer is that sometimes unpleasant faces from the past haunt your dreams. You have Zelinsky, and I have Richard Trout."

"But what did he _do_?"

"What he did doesn't really matter anymore. He died in prison about a year ago."

"Oh, I…I see. We can still talk about, if you want."

"I _don't _want to talk aboutit,so I'd really appreciate it if you left now."

Hathaway went over to the door and was about to walk through it when Innocent spoke again.

"Oh, and James?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Lock the door behind you. Regardless of how desperately you may '_need_' me, you have no right to invade my privacy!"

Hathaway did as he was told.


	13. 13: Misconstrued Motives

**So, this fic has been on hiatus for a long time, partly because I had severe writer's block and partly because Series 5, though awesome, sort of killed my head-canon about Innocent's personal life. However, I finally resolved that I had put too much time and thought in this story to abandon it completely. So I'm trudging forward into the terrifying world of Alternate Universes. **

**For the purposes of this story, Jean and her husband have been married for little more than ten years, and their fully-grown son Chris does not exist.**

Chapter Thirteen—Misconstrued Motives

" Inspector Lewis, do you mind if I borrow your sergeant for a moment?" Harvey Malcolm asked as he poked his head in to Lewis's office the following afternoon.

James sent a pleading look in Robbie's direction that the inspector somehow didn't catch. " I suppose not. I was going to get another cup of coffee anyway."

Lewis left the room, and Malcolm shut the door firmly behind him. Hathaway had no idea of what the older man wanted, but he knew that it couldn't be anything good.

" I just want to make one thing very clear; I don't like you, sergeant, and I get the impression the feeling's mutual."

" Then, I guess you're not a _complete_ idiot after all. That's a relief."

" Do you really think it's wise to provoke me?"

_Was that a threat? _Hathaway wasn't sure, but he didn't want to take any unnecessary chances so he remained silent as Malcolm continued. " I took me awhile to figure out why you seem to hate me. Of course, there's the whole Fiona mess, but that was ages ago…"

" I can still hold a grudge—can't I? What you did to her was a bit more than 'creating a mess,' and six months is hardly 'ages ago!'"

Malcolm pretended not to hear him. " Of course, I'm not here to discuss Fiona. I'm here to ask you a few questions about John Innocent's death."

" We've told you everything we know," Hathaway protested, though it wasn't strictly the truth. They hadn't told him that they had started turning their suspicion toward Malcolm himself and had started checking out his dubious alibi of being at a pub at the time of the murder.

" Oh, I don't think so. I've been doing a bit of thinking about this new suspect you've mentioned a few times. One 'Stewart Duncan.'"

" Oh, indeed," Hathaway said, pretending to be interested but secretly panicking. Was it possible that Malcolm had somehow guessed that 'Stewart Duncan' was the code name Lewis and Hathaway had been using for him?

"'Duncan' precedes his son Malcolm as King of Scotland in Shakespeare's _Macbeth. _American actor James '_Stewart'_ played the leading role in the film _Harvey. _You know I'm rather disappointed in you, Mr. Hathaway. Jean and Fiona have such a high opinion of your intelligence, but that was ridiculously easy. I get the impression your heart wasn't really in it; maybe you secretly wanted me to figure it out."

" No, in all honesty, we just figured you were too much an imbecile to ever read Shakespeare and too much of a pervert to watch anything other than pornography."

Malcolm took another few steps toward the sergeant. " Do you really think so little of me?"

" Any man who makes persistent inappropriate and unwanted advances towards a woman is no man but rather a rat," Hathaway replied coolly, avoiding Malcolm's gaze.

" Am I to take it that you're including yourself in this analysis?"

" If I were that sort of rat, I would willingly acknowledge it, but fortunately, I'm not. I would never stoop so low; I have very high standards, unlike you. I consider myself much more of a man than you'll ever be."

" But not enough a man to get you what you want, James."

Hathaway stared at him blankly. " What I want? You don't have the slightest idea of what I want."

" Oh, yes, I do, James; after all, it's what I want too." Seeing that Hathaway still looked confused, Malcolm clarified. " Jean."

Hathaway's first instinct was to rush out of the room and find out who had blabbed about that stupid kiss. He managed to stifle this impulse but found himself giving into his second impulse, which was to laugh.

" You can't be serious," he said when his chuckles had finally subsided.

" I'm afraid I am. The way you're always leaping to her defense, the way you start blushing nearly every time you lock eyes with her; it's obvious what's wrong with you."

Hathaway laughed again. " Well, it can't be that obvious—or I would have been aware of it myself. Innocent and I have…have hit a bit of a rough patch in our professional relationship right now, and we're both trying very hard to move past it. For pity's sake, she's…"

" An attractive, sophisticated older woman? And you're the hopelessly smitten, impressionable younger man. Come, come, it would hardly be the first time something like this has happened."

" It would be for me! Look, I don't know if this is going to make it through to that thick skull of yours, but I don't fancy Innocent. I never have—and God help me if I ever will! This is the real world—not some bloody soap opera!"

Malcolm's dark eyes narrowed as he continued to give Hathaway a very menacing glare. " Exactly, this is the real world—and she was a married woman. So, tell me, James, did you go after her husband? Did you honestly think that if you cleared that obstacle it would get her into your bed?"

The sergeant fought the temptation to tell Malcolm that Jean Innocent had—in fact—spent the past night in Hathaway's bed—though she had been alone, and it had been in an extremely platonic sense. However, he knew that making this statement was the equivalent of signing his own death sentence. "I might as well ask you the same questions. _You're_ the one who's been harassing her!"

" I haven't been harassing her; she just needs a little push in the right direction. Poor soul seems to have forgotten how good we were together, and I'm just hoping to remind her of old times. You, on the other hand… you disgust me. You act like her faithful lapdog, simply because you want to get in her lap. You give yourself delusions of grandeur that someday she'll look at you twice. And she never will, James; I can assure of that."

Hathaway snorted." Like I'd care if she did. Look, I'm only going to say this once more, I don't have any sort of romantic feelings toward Innocent. Just because _you're_ so bloody hot for her that doesn't mean that the rest of us are. At the time of the murder, I was here at the station talking to Jean. And our conversation was about work, mind you, not about how I want to shag the hell out of her. Because I _don't_, whether you believe it or not. Now, if you don't mind, I have a few questions to ask Inspector Lewis."

Without another word, Hathaway pushed past Malcolm and exited the room. He didn't stop until he found Lewis, who was deep in conversation with Innocent just outside the break room. As soon as Jean saw James, she started slightly and bid Robbie a quick goodbye.

Hathaway wanted to call her back so that he could apologize for his behavior last night. The last thing he had ever wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable.

But would bringing it up only make everything more awkward between them? He wasn't really sure. It was possible that Innocent herself had started subscribing to Malcolm's ridiculous theory.

He missed the way their relationship had been before deaths and kisses and obnoxious Scotland Yard officers had complicated everything. He missed the times when he'd been able to say what was truly on his mind without having to worry about being misconstrued. And though he'd faced his share of teasing on account of it, he missed being her "Boy Wonder." He'd liked knowing that he had her respect, trust, and admiration.

He doubted that he still had them, and he found it a sobering thought, though not for the reasons that Harvey Malcolm suspected.

" So what did Malcolm want?" Lewis asked finally when Hathaway had finally stopped staring into space.

" He was trying to find a way to stitch me up as our killer, if you can believe that."

" You're joking, mate. Doesn't he know that you're alibied—not to mention the fact that you'd never even met the man you've supposedly murdered?"

The sergeant shrugged slightly." At this point, I don't believe he cares."

" So, I'm curious. What's your motive?"

" The same as his, apparently."

" You mean…" Lewis asked as Hathaway nodded. " What did you tell him?"

" That I'm not the killing type and that even if I was, my interest in Jean is purely from a professional standpoint."

" Is it, James?"

The sergeant stared at him in shock. _Surely, Robbie of all people! _" Sir?"

" Well, I'm only saying that I can't exactly blame Malcolm for thinking that; I've wondered the same thing myself a coupla times."

" And what exactly prompted this speculation on your part?" Hathaway asked as he crossed his arms disapprovingly.

" Well…you know…the other night when you were drunk…"

" You seem to be forgetting that I _was_ drunk on said night! I obviously had no real idea of what I was doing, or I'd never have done it."

" Still…it makes me wonder," Lewis said, the expression on his face inscrutable. "Anyway, you're lucky Malcolm doesn't know about that night, at least I don't think he does."

" He'd better not!"

" Well, if he does, I'm afraid you'll just have to deal with it. Don't worry, James. Before you know it, the case will be solved, and he'll be out of your life for good," Lewis replied as he briefly patted Hathaway on the shoulder in a reassuring manner.

" That's about the only thing keeping me sane. So…what were you and Innocent talking about before I interrupted?"

" Well, you know the funeral's this afternoon," Robbie responded as James nodded. "The chief super wants us to be there—for moral support, though there's also the added bonus of having an opportunity to further question some of Mr. Innocent's friends and associates. I ran into Jean after I'd finished my coffee; she was waiting around, hoping to catch one of us on our own. You see, she doesn't want Malcolm finding out that we're going to the funeral and crashing it. She's told Harvey that she isn't inviting any of her colleagues in the hopes of dissuading him. If he asks where we're going at three p.m., you're to tell him that I have an urgent doctor's appointment and that you're driving me –as I'm unsure that I'll be able to operate a car after the doctor performs the 'necessary tests.'"

Hathaway raised a skeptical eyebrow. " Do you really think he'll buy it?"

" Course not, but it's worth a try at least."

" Oh, and before I forget, when you were looking through Innocent's old cases, did you come across any mention of a Richard Trout?"

Lewis shook his head." No, I don't think so. Why?"

" Jean mentioned him last night, and I got the impression that whoever he was, he'd had a major impact on her. But don't worry if you don't find anything; from what she told me, it sounds like he's dead anyway. I was…was just worried about her, I guess."

" Oh, I…I see." They started walking back to Lewis's office in silence before the inspector spoke again. "James, you do know that I was only joking about the whole you-fancying-Innocent-thing earlier?"

" Of course, I do," said Hathaway, though he didn't sound totally convinced.

**So, sort of a brief random chapter, but I needed transition. Still, it's the first time that I've updated in five months so that has to count for something!**


	14. 14: Familiar Faces

Chapter Fourteen— Familiar Faces

As Jean Innocent watched the last shovelful of dirt fall on to her husband's grave, she felt the tears she'd been holding back for the past two hours streaking down her cheeks.

She tried to tell herself that the worst was over—that she'd be able to move on with her life now—but she knew that this wasn't the truth.

And as painful as it was, she knew that this was for the best. The alternative was far worse.

She couldn't even begin to imagine what that would feel like to forget him, and yet she knew it would be only a matter of time before she would start forgetting. She couldn't hold on to all of the little things that she loved about him forever. There would come a time when she'd struggle to remember his favourite brand of toothpaste or the smell of his aftershave.

But she knew that there was one thing that her memory could never erase: the fact that she'd loved him and been loved by him.

As the tears continued to stream down her face, she suddenly realized just how miraculous it was that she'd been able to make it through the eulogy without totally falling to pieces. She liked to think that maybe, somehow, John had leant her some of his strength. Of the two of them, he'd always been the patient, stoic one.

That wasn't to say that he'd never gotten angry; he had been only human after all. Though seldom aroused, his temper had been volatile, and as Jean herself was more than a little temperamental, the Innocent's marriage had survived its fair share of arguments.

But after even the most violent of disagreements, they'd eventually kiss and make-up, somehow finding themselves able to laugh about how silly they'd both been. And whenever she needed him, he was always there for her.

She remembered the times when his arms had been the only place in the world that she'd felt truly safe and accepted: the first few months after their move to Oxford when she'd felt as though everyone was waiting for her to prove herself unworthy and incapable of her promotion; the moment she'd realized that her former best friend was mentally unstable and a murderer.

He'd believed in her and listened to her at times when very few others had. She hoped he'd realized just how much this had meant to her, just how much _he_ had meant to her.

She thought she remembered kissing him goodbye and telling him that she loved him on that last day, but she couldn't be sure. She'd had so many other things on her mind at the time, so many other things that seemed so unimportant now.

Jean felt an arm slowly wrap itself around her shoulders, and for a moment, she let herself believe that it was _his _arm, and that she'd just awoken from another nightmare. But this arm was much thinner and softer.

She turned her head and saw a pair of eyes, the exact shade of her own, looking back at her. It seemed strange to have her younger sister comforting her, as so often in the past, it had been the other way around.

Although the physical resemblance between them was uncanny, Jean Innocent and Nicole Hampton had always been very different people. In truth, Jean was only seven years older, but those seven years felt a lifetime. Nicole was as impulsive and outspoken as Jean was cautious and reserved.

Before her death, their mother had liked to joke that all of her grey hairs had come from raising Nicole, and Jean herself had lost many a night's sleep, worrying about and looking after her wild and passionate sister.

She thought about the countless times that a teenaged Nicole had run away from home. Jean had always been the person to find her and to convince her to return home. Similarly, Jean had been there for Nicole whenever heartbreak struck, which was often as Nicole—like many impulsive, passionate people—fell in and out of love constantly.

And now that the shoe was on the other foot, Jean's sister was there for her. Jean allowed Nicole to envelop her in a close embrace and to hold her until her tears slowed. When they finally broke apart, Jean turned to her sister.

" Thank you for coming, Nicole. "

Nicole brushed off the thanks. " You needed me. Though, you didn't admit it, of course, as you've got the obstinacy of a year-old sow with twice the appetite."

Innocent smiled, the first real smile that she'd had in four days. " You're one to talk," she teased, " at least I never ate an entire chocolate cake by myself, unlike _some _people I could mention."

Nicole grinned back and patted her stomach, which was still astonishingly flat despite having once carried two children. " And I didn't gain an ounce—don't you forget it!"

" How could I with you constantly reminding me of this fact?"

" The twins sent their love, by the way. They're still too young to really understand what's happening; all I've told them is that 'Aunt Jean' is very sad right now. Of course, this may have been a mistake on my part as Frank wanted to take his cricket bat to whoever made his auntie upset. Fortunately, Jeannie was able to persuade him not to do so. It seems she's inherited her namesake's sense," Nicole said, squeezing her sister's shoulder reassuringly.

" So are the kids at their dad's, then?"

" Yeah, Paul will take good care of them."

There was something in Nicole's voice that made Innocent wonder if her sister was really as over her ex-husband as she pretended to be. It gave Jean a renewed sense of kinship with Nicole; it seemed that they'd both lost men they loved, though at least Nicole had the chance for a happy reunion with Paul someday.

" Anyway," Nicole said after a long pause. " You should probably go and greet some of the other guests."

Jean nodded and looked around at some of the people standing by the freshly dug grave.

She caught Lewis's eye, and he gave her a slight nod of sympathy and understanding. Innocent interpreted this gesture as an indication of his willingness to resume the discussion they'd had in her office yesterday. She decided to wait to pursue this opportunity; there would be plenty of time to talk later, and she doubted that she was physically and mentally able to have that particular conversation at this painful time.

Beside Lewis stood Hathaway, looking tall, solemn, and stoic. He too looked as though he wanted to say something, but seemed conflicted as to whether or not his comfort would be welcome.

A little further along, Jean was disgusted to see that Harvey Malcolm had completely disregarded her advice about skipping the funeral. All the more galling was the fact that the expression on his face was not somber or mournful—but bored. Innocent wasn't surprised about this; she knew that he was only here in the hopes of pouncing on her at the reception and imploring her once again to let him ease her pain. Still, she wished that Harvey would be able to show some small sign of sorrow at the passing of a man who had once been his close friend.

Suddenly, the expression on Malcolm's face changed from one of boredom to one of total loathing. Innocent thought for a moment that the look was directed at her, but then realized that Malcolm was staring past her at Hathaway of all people.

This confused Innocent slightly. She had gotten the impression that James did not think much of Harvey—not that she could really blame him for that—but she had no idea what reason Malcolm would have to dislike Hathaway. She wondered if James had been misbehaving again and whether she'd have to lecture him once again for insubordination. But surely Lewis or Malcolm would have told her if this had been the case.

She tried not to think about this and scoured her eyes over the rest of the crowd. She saw the faces of family, friends, and colleagues—both her own and those of those of John's. But there was one face that she did not recognize.

A man in a black hooded sweatshirt stood watching the scene from several feet away. She tried not to let this bother her; John had had many friends, and she had never pretended to know all of them. Undoubtedly, this man had heard about Mr. Innocent's death and had come to pay his respects, though he obviously didn't feel comfortable joining the rest of them at the gravesite itself.

There was, however, something undeniably familiar about the man's tall, muscular frame. She suddenly wished that she were better able to see his face, which was somewhat obscured by his hood.

It took Innocent a moment to realize that the man was watching her watch him. Even when she removed her gaze and kept walking amongst the crowd, she could still feel the man's eyes upon her, staring almost unblinkingly at her. The feeling was incredibly unnerving.

Innocent walked over to her mother-in-law who looked nearly as miserable as Jean felt. " How are you?" she asked.

" Not at all well," the elderly Mrs. Innocent replied as she leaned heavily on her cane. " I'm sure you know the feeling."

Innocent nodded." I do. I have a question, though. That man by the willow tree. Would you happen to know what his name is and how he's acquainted with John?"

The seventy-nine-year-old looked around and then returned her attention to her daughter-in-law. " Man? I see no man by the tree, Jean."

Innocent glanced back at the place where she'd seen the man earlier, and realized that John's mother was right; the man was gone.


	15. 15: Sympathies Unexpressed

Chapter Fifteen— Sympathies Unexpressed

DS James Hathaway leaned back against the brick wall of the building behind him. He'd gone outside for a little while, having already questioned nearly everyone at the reception hall. His efforts had proved largely ineffectual, as he'd uncovered no real suspects in the case, excepting Harvey Malcolm, who had attached himself to Innocent's side like the pesky, vicious mosquito that he'd already proven himself numerous times.

Although Malcolm's presence was the main reason Hathaway had left the reception for the time being, it wasn't the only reason. The idea of being trapped in a room of near-strangers and being forced to make small talk was almost as terrifying as being held at gunpoint by deranged suspect.

It was one thing to conduct conversations in his professional capacity. In those instances, he'd always known exactly what questions to ask and when to ask them. What was more, most people tended to dislike being questioned by the police so they'd answer the questions (while perhaps complaining that all of this was " an unnecessary waste of time") and then they'd leave—just as relieved that they didn't have to answer any more questions as Hathaway was that he didn't have to ask them. Questioning suspects may not have been Hathaway's favourite part of the job, but it was part of the job nonetheless.

This, however, was something totally different. It was totally obvious that questions alone weren't what these people were expecting from him. They wanted sympathy, understanding, and most of all, they wanted answers to their own questions: how and why this horrible thing had happened? And James couldn't give them any of these things they so craved, regardless of how much he wanted to.

John Innocent had been a complete stranger to him—a person whom Hathaway had known only through the occasional comment from the man's wife. But to these people, Mr. Innocent hadn't existed only in words. He'd touched each and every one of these people's lives in one way or another.

"No sooner had he arrived in Barcelona than I phoned him and mentioned that I'd caught the flu strain that was going around the city at the time. And you know what he did then? He went right back to the airport and bought a ticket for the next flight to England so that he could take care of his little old sick mother!"

" I remember, one time, when I was between jobs, he loaned me 250 pounds. I told them that I wasn't sure when or even if I could repay him. He said that he knew, and that he didn't care whether or not I paid him back. And when I got back on my feet again, he refused to take the money."

After relating these anecdotes, the storytellers would then pressure Hathaway to share a story of his own—something he'd been unable to do. He'd had to explain to them that he was only here to give Jean moral support—or at least he was here because he _wanted _to give Jean moral support, though he had yet to do so.

For one thing, talking to Innocent meant facing Harvey Malcolm as well. And for another thing, James still wasn't sure exactly what to say and how to say it.

" I hear your husband was a wonderful man." Yes, he'd _heard_ this; he hadn't seen it for himself. He was in no position to talk.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't his fault. There wasn't anything Hathaway could have done to stop this.

" You'll be in my prayers." He wasn't even sure Jean was in any way religious.

" You're in my thoughts." That was quite possibly the worst thing he'd thought of yet. Chances were about 50/50 that she'd interpret it as he'd meant it and not as " I can't stop thinking about the fact that you taste of cherry lip balm."

The real trouble was that he knew exactly what he wished he could say to her. He wanted to tell her that he'd found out who'd murdered her husband. He wanted to hand her an enormous pile of undeniable evidence that would ensure that the killer forever remained behind bars. But he couldn't do that just yet. He wasn't even sure that he could promise her that he'd find the culprit at all. Cases went cold all the time—particularly cases like this one, consisting of lacks of suspects and of physical evidence. All he could promise her was to keep trying—to keep searching.

James sighed and started instinctively fumbling in his pockets for a cigarette before he remembered that there were none as he was trying to give up smoking.

The sergeant let out a particularly volatile torrent of curse words, knowing that the cigarette was merely the excuse he put to it. He needed to release some of his pent-up anger, frustration, and anxiety. He could continue to bemoan his lack of progress on the case, to fantasize about giving Harvey Malcolm a hard kick in nether regions, to carefully monitor his speech around Jean so as to avoid misinterpretation. It would be easier to continue acting in this manner, but he knew that doing so would hinder his progress on the case. He needed to get his head screwed on straight again.

" I'm sorry, James. I didn't mean to intrude." Hathaway turned his head slightly toward the sound of the voice. " It's…it's just…I needed a bit of fresh air," Innocent said quietly.

As he took a few steps toward her, he noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes. " I…er…have you been getting enough rest?"

She shook her head. " I haven't gotten a full night's sleep in over a week. I was having a bit of an insomnia problem even before…before…all this, and as you can imagine, it's only gotten worse. Last night, I couldn't even manage two hours worth of sleep."

" Why don't you try napping in your office? You do have that rather comfortable chair you could curl up in."

" Somehow, I don't the chief constable would like that very much."

" Who says he has to know? I won't tell if you won't."

Innocent smiled weakly. " Still, it's not exactly professional behavior, and in any case, that chair isn't nearly as comfortable as it looks."

" We can't have that now—can we ma'am? We'll have to get you a replacement."

" You know just as well as I that there's no room in the current budget for unnecessary expenditures."

" Yeah, I do. But this isn't an unnecessary expenditure. It's crucial to your physical and psychological well-being. How can you be an effective chief superintendent if you don't have a chair befitting your position?"

" I doubt I'd be an effective chief superintendent even if I _did_ have a better chair," Jean muttered, half-to herself.

" Pardon?"

" It's…it's nothing." She changed the subject before he could press her further on the matter. "So, er… in any case, while you're here, I wanted to tell you something. My sister Nicole… I believe you met her today… she came to town for the…the…_funeral._" Hathaway could see the immense impact that the simple word had on Innocent from the chief superintendent's slightly trembling lip. " Anyway, Nicole's insisted taking me out tonight; she says I need a distraction. I expect she's right about that, though my sister's idea of a distraction is a bit more…_adventurous_ than mine."

" Thank you for telling me. What time to you think you'll be getting in? I plan to stay up until at least 1:30 so that I can get some work done, but if you think you'll be getting back later, I can leave the front door unlocked."

Innocent shuffled her foot uncomfortably. " Er…actually… I…I won't be coming back to the house tonight. Nicole's invited me to come back to her hotel room with her. Although she originally reserved a single room, something went wrong with her order and the hotel staff upgraded her to a suite with two very nice bedrooms."

" Ah." Try though he might, Hathaway still couldn't shake off the thought that this had less to do with Nicole Hampton's hotel room being upgraded and more to do with the fact that Innocent didn't want to be in the same house with James—more to with the fact that she didn't _trust_ him anymore. Was she afraid he'd walk in on her as she was changing? That he'd steal her towel as she was showering? That he'd creep into the bedroom late at night to watch her sleep?

Kiss or no kiss, he was still the same James Hathaway he'd always been, and James Hathaway was far too honourable to even think of attempting things like that—even with women in whom he was seriously interested. And he _wasn't _seriously interested in Jean. He wasn't even remotely interested. _Wasn't he?_

" And…well, I just figured this would be more convenient for everyone. Nicole and I will get to spend a little more time together before she leaves tomorrow morning. And you'll get some time to yourself."

Still not entirely convinced, Hathaway responded. " It's no inconvenience, but if that's what you'd prefer…"

" It is," Innocent replied curtly. "I plan to stop by your place briefly after work so that I can pick up a few things I'll need for the night."

" Okay then."

" Good. Well, I'd better go back inside now." She moved to leave, and he was left alone with his disappointment that she'd left before he'd had a chance to say one word of sympathy toward her.

_Several Hours Later_

A tall man in a dark hooded sweatshirt sat in a car outside the pub, having waited there for over two hours. Half of him wanted to leave now and come back some other time, but he knew that if he just kept waiting a little bit longer…

_At last!_

Most men's eyes would have been instantly drawn to the younger of the two women who had just exited the building, but this man was an exception. He had no use for the tall, thin woman—as pretty as she was; he had eyes only for her companion.

And there she was, mere feet away! If he was quiet enough, he could hear the clickety-clack sound of her footsteps on the sidewalk. He watched his quarry place a steadying arm around her swaying comrade's waist; it was clear that the younger woman had had too much to drink.

He debated changing his original course of action. He could take her now; it was dark and quiet, and she was alone, save for the other woman who'd be useless if it came to a fight. He then remembered that he'd forgotten to take the chloroform with him. For a moment, he let himself believe that this didn't matter. He was certainly strong enough to overpower two defenseless women, and he'd even be able to hear her scream, a sound that would be almost musical to his ears.

But so would everyone else. People would come running out of their shops and their flats. Even if they were unable to stop him before he'd got away, they'd surely alert the police; someone might even manage to jot down the plate number of the car.

No, it was best to stick to his original plan. Besides, there'd be plenty of time to listen to her screams later.

For now, he just wanted to scare her a little more, to put her on edge.

He started the car and began driving.

If her sister had been in her right mind, Jean Innocent was sure that Nicole Hampton would have found nothing remotely funny about hydrangeas. However, Nicole was so totally out-of-it right now that she couldn't stop giggling. And because Nicole's laugh was so infectious, Jean herself couldn't help but smile, though she doubted she would have gotten the joke even she _ha_d been as drunk as her sister currently was.

" Lesch have anofer, shall we, Jeanie my queen," Nicole slurred before giving a slight belch. " Oh, 'scuse me," she said before erupting in another round of giggles.

" I don't think so, Nicky. You don't need anymore to drink. Besides, we have to get you back to your hotel room. You need your beauty sleep; you're going home in the morning, remember?"

" Right. Er…Jeanie, where is home again?"

" Your home is in London."

" Thatsch your home too—right?"

" No, my home is…"she stopped. For the past few hours, she'd almost forgotten exactly what had brought Nicole to Oxford.

Jean thought of her miserably vacant house that hadn't been home for four days and would never be home again. For the past twelve years, "Home" had always been where John was.

_Where was "home" now?_

Her house wasn't home; she knew that much—not with the foyer carpet stained with so much blood that washing was a pointless, unnecessary expense.

No, that horrible place was just somewhere she'd once lived. But if that wasn't home, what was?

The place where she'd grown up? Hardly. Her parents were both long dead, and the house itself had been sold to a contractor who's preceded to turn it into a car park.

School, the place where she'd thrived intellectually and had made lifelong friends? Yeah, "friends" who'd seduced and then murdered their foster sons.

Scotland Yard? Not a bloody chance. There'd been only two people who'd really liked her there, and as of right now, she only liked one of them.

Here? Oxford itself? Her first instinct was an emphatic " no," but the more she thought about the more she realized that it wasn't totally inconceivable. Here, unlike as it was in London, she was trusted and respected by her colleagues (apart from the occasional cheeky comment from a certain Geordie inspector or his Cambridge-educated sergeant, and those comments were harmless). What was more, the respect seemed sincere.

She'd been very popular while she was at school, but Jean suspected that many of her so-called "friends" only liked to hang around her, because she was attractive and clever, and because her parents were well off. Ginny had been one of the few exceptions, one of the few people who seemed to genuinely like Jean for herself, but Ginny had turned out to be a nutcase—hadn't she?

She couldn't exactly call any of her current business associates " friend." That wasn't a very professional attitude as they _were_ her subordinates. But while her colleagues weren't exactly friends, they were nevertheless valued companions and trusted allies— particularly Lewis and Hathaway, though she'd never admit it even to herself. She wasn't supposed to have favourites.

Not that they _were _her favourites, of course, though James—cheeky blighter that he was—had made the occasional joke to that effect.

Or at least, he'd used to make those sorts of jokes before he'd become a near stranger to her. Although she had rolled her eyes at these comments in the past, she found now that she missed them desperately now. Even the most impertinent remarks would have been preferable to the awkwardness that had characterized their interaction as of late. At least, Lewis had remained largely unchanged. He was just as hard working and compassionate as ever.

Innocent thought some more about the pair that had caused her so much grief and yet so much satisfaction over the years. At different times, they'd triggered laughter and migraines, stress and relief, worry and reassurance, pride and disappointment. And they certainly kept things _interesting _to say the least!

" Where's your home, Jeanie?" Nicole asked again as the two of them made to cross the street.

Innocent found it difficult to reply, as she still wasn't totally sure of the answer herself. Mentally composing a diplomatic response, she turned her head toward her sister and out of the corner of her eye, caught sight of the dark black car that was barreling straight for them. " Nicky, look out!" Jean shouted to her sister as she immediately began sprinting across the road.

Nicole ran as well, but her current state of intoxication made her much slower, and much less steady on her feet. She was able to make it to the shoulder of the road, but the car mimicked her movements, pulling over to the shoulder at nearly the same time Nicole did. As Nicole stepped onto the curb of the sidewalk in an attempt to avoid the car, the vehicle collided with her shoulder sharply and she lost her balance, her head hitting the asphalt of the road with a loud thud. The driver of the black car sped off before Jean could so much as catch the plate number of his car.

Mentally cursing both her slowness and her inability to protect her little sister, Innocent returned her attention to the more immediate and urgent problem: Nicole, who was lying in the road motionless and unconscious—a bloody gash staining the back of her head.

**I'd welcome any and all feedback.**


	16. 16: Another Phone Call

**Another brief, slightly boring "necessary exposition" chapter. Though this one is much less random I can assure you. By my best guess, we've got about one more chapter—possibly two—until we move into the climactic action sequence (which I started writing awhile back).**

Chapter Sixteen—Another Phone Call

Following the previous night's attack on Nicole Hampton, Lewis and Hathaway had had a nice long discussion. Considering all else that had happened recently, both men thought it was at least possible that Innocent had been the real target. After all, it had been very dark at the time and the physical resemblance between the two sisters was extraordinary. And there was still the death threat to consider.

In light of their suspicions, the two detectives had therefore agreed that one of them needed to stay as close to the chief superintendent's side as possible at all times to ensure her safety. Needless to say, neither of them had conveyed this plan to Harvey Malcolm—for he would've instantly taken on the role of Jean's "protector" himself. They'd also neglected to inform Innocent herself, sure that she'd take offense if she knew she was under constant surveillance.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before Jean figured it out. She was astonishingly perceptive about these sorts of things, and Robbie hadn't been exactly subtle when he'd asked very loudly to accompany the chief superintendent to the hospital this morning. In all likelihood, Innocent was already suspicious of their recent behaviour, and Hathaway knew that all hell would break loose once she had gathered enough evidence to confirm her suspicions.

Although, it was quite possible she'd be too distracted with worry for her sister to really concentrate on anything else. Doctors agreed that Nicole Hampton was a very lucky woman; though she'd sustained a minor concussion and some severe bruising from the attack, chances were still "very good" that she'd make a full recovery. Of course, "very good" wasn't nearly good enough for Jean Innocent. She wanted the medical staff to be 100% certain—just as she'd always wanted Lewis and Hathaway to be 100% certain before they made an arrest.

Hathaway fervently wished Innocent was taking her own health and safety even half as seriously as she was taking her sister's. The chief superintendent was still vehemently denying that she was in any real danger, insisting that her sister's attack had been an accident—just as she'd insisted the funeral invitations had been a "printing error."

Who did she think she was kidding? Hathaway had looked at the CCTV footage of Nicole's "accident" countless times in the past few hours, and it was clear that there was nothing accidental about it. Not even Jean could convincingly deny that the car had deliberately swerved to hit her sister—although this hadn't stopped the chief super from trying to deny it anyway. What was more, the license plate number they'd retrieved from carefully viewing of the footage came from a car recently reported stolen just outside London.

"It's simple; some young lout stole a car, had a bit too much to drink, and decided to take it for a joyride," Innocent had advocated this theory from the very beginning. While there was a _slight _possibility this was correct, it would still have been one hell of a coincidence.

And then, there were the funeral invitations—ordered over the phone from one of the few public phone booths in Oxford that remained operational under the name "John Doe," picked up and paid for in cash by a tall, muscular, dark-haired man in a hooded sweatshirt. If _that_ wasn't highly suspicious, Hathaway didn't know what was.

There were only two possible reasons in the sergeant's mind that Innocent could have for denying the obvious. Most likely, she was really scared and didn't want to admit it to anyone—least of all herself. She'd want to appear eternally brave, clever, and practical at all times—even when stronger people than she would've given up trying.

James greatly preferred this theory to his other. Jean Innocent was one of the most decent, honest, upright people James Hathaway had ever known, but still, everyone had secrets. Was it really possible that she'd been concealing something major from them all along? Something that if Lewis and Hathaway were to learn, it might save her life, but kill her reputation? Something so dangerous or shameful that she'd rather run the risk of death than reveal her secret?

Hathaway suspected that he was being a bit paranoid in thinking this, but still, it was far better to overreact than underreact. The most important things right now were to find John Innocent's murderer, to find out how the man's widow fit into the picture, and to protect Jean—if her life truly was in danger as James suspected that it was.

Unfortunately, it was getting more and more difficult for Hathaway and Lewis to fulfil these objectives the way things currently stood. Even if he was completely blameless of the murder itself, Harvey Malcolm was still a formidable obstacle to the investigation.

And after a long deliberation, Hathaway thought he'd finally come up with a decent plan to get that particular obstacle out of the way once and for all. He quickly glanced down at his watch. Malcolm had left to get himself an early lunch only five minutes ago, and Lewis and Innocent weren't due back from the hospital for another half-hour at least.

Carefully, Hathaway took the scrap of paper from his jacket pocket and set it down in front of him. Then, he picked his mobile and dialled the phone number scrawled on the bit of paper.


	17. 17: A Word

Chapter Seventeen—A "Word"

The moment Innocent walked into the room Hathaway knew that he was in trouble. "I need to see you in my office immediately." The clipped, overly-careful tone of her voice indicated a noble but failed attempt to conceal the anger that was already obvious enough, given her body language: dangerously-narrowed brows, lips tightly pursed over gritted teeth, the fist that she was (most likely) unconscious that she was making.

There was no denying why she was here. It was far too much to hope for that she'd found something else to set her off.

Wait, what was he saying? Of _course_, it was a good thing that something else hadn't set her off. Hathaway couldn't begin to imagine how furious she'd be if she had something else bothering her on top of what he'd done.

Besides, it would only have been a matter of time before she'd have found out anyway. He'd known all along that it was something he wouldn't have been able to keep from her.

But still, she _knew_. The thought was absolutely terrifying. Suspension was almost inevitable by this point. In some ways, it would be a blessing. At least that way, James wouldn't have to put up with the lingering effects of his having taken matters into his own hands; he wouldn't have to feel guilty for making her so furious.

Good God, what was he thinking? He had nothing to feel _guilty_ about. Yes, it _had _been an under-handed and impulsive thing to do, but he could see no other way. He'd done what he had to, and though she might think otherwise, he had done it for _her _own good.

" Both of us, ma'am?" Lewis asked, glancing up curiously.

"For _now_."

Oh, she knew all right, she _definitely _knew. Any doubt that lingered in Hathaway's mind faded away as he saw the merciless expression in Jean's eyes. The only thing she didn't know was which one of them had done it. And she _was _going to find out.

The two men followed their superior officer back to her office, and Innocent bolted the door behind her once they'd arrived.

" What can we do for you, ma'am?" Lewis said. He gave a weak attempt at a smile, though James was sure his inspector was just as conscious of the "danger signs" as Hathaway himself was.

" What you can do is answer just one little question for me?"

" That shouldn't be a problem, ma'am. Can't promise I'll know the answer, but I'd be happy to help in any way I can."

" Well, I'm sure that if you don't know the answer, Sergeant Hathaway will. _Won't you, James?_" Jean's voice was soft and sweet—too soft and sweet to be genuine. It was far more intimidating than her shouting could've been, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase "killing with kindness."

He gulped." I couldn't say, ma'am. I mean…even I don't know everything," he said, trying to force a laugh.

"That's right, James, you_ don't_ know everything—which is why you should consider letting older and wiser heads do your thinking _for _you every so often," Innocent replied, her syrupy tone not faltering for a minute as she gave him a look that could've brought down much stronger men than James Hathaway.

That settled it. She knew it was him. Likely, she'd suspected all along and had only asked Robbie to come so she could be completely sure.

Lewis finally had the courage to break the uncomfortable silence. "Ma'am? I believe you had a question…"

Jean finally broke her death stare, and Hathaway found himself mentally sighing in momentary relief. "Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me, Robbie. This morning, I got to work and checked the voice mail messages on my office phone—just as I do every day—and there was a very, _very _intriguing message from an old friend of yours. I wonder if either of you boys might be able to guess who it was."

" No, ma'am. I haven't the foggiest."

Hathaway, meanwhile, was staring very fixatedly at the wall behind Innocent, resolving not to make any sudden gestures that would give anything away. Of course, he knew it was waste of time and effort; Jean could see right through him. In some respects, it would be better to confess now; maybe she'd be more lenient on him if he freely admitted what he'd done.

"It was your old boss. _Strange_—isn't it?" Innocent's tone suggested that she was not merely referring to her predecessor's surname, but also to the entire incident in general.

Lewis nodded. "Yes, ma'am. What did he want?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could tell me, Robbie…or perhaps _James_ can?" When Hathaway remained silent, Innocent pressed on. "He'd called to inform me that he was coming into the station today at 1:30, after he'd sorted everything at his hotel."

"He's in Oxford? I had no idea, ma'am."

"I suspected as much. But your sergeant knew—_didn't you James_?" Hathaway glanced over to her for a second and instantly regretted it. The expression in the chief superintendent's eyes was almost predatory—a cat who was mere moments away from catching her mouse.

Lewis suddenly became acutely aware of the precarious situation his sergeant was in and acted accordingly. " That is to say, ma'am…. I _did_ know that he was in town…I just…I didn't…want you to find out about it. I thought…you might…get angry…about it."

"Oh, I am, Robbie. Very, _very_ angry—and I have good reason to be. So tell me, inspector, why _is_ Strange coming here when he's supposed to be enjoying a quiet retirement in the countryside?"

"Well…you see…er…he…er…I…er..."

Innocent gave a mirthless smile. "Your loyalty is touching, Robbie, but you're not fooling anyone. Because unlike you, James and I know _exactly_ why Strange is here." She paused and watched Hathaway fidget uncomfortably for a moment. "I've just got off the line with the chief constable, and he's just informed me that he received a phone call yesterday afternoon from a certain junior officer who wouldn't leave his name. This 'mystery man' voiced his sincere and profound concern that the Buckinghamshire Police was being deprived of it's new chief superintendent for an indefinite amount of time and suggested that perhaps it might be better to have someone else supervise my husband's case, leaving Harvey Malcolm free to return to work. The chief constable seemed to agree with this logic and mentioned that he knew that a former colleague of his would be in the city for business reasons—and that this old friend might be persuaded to come out of retirement briefly if asked."

Lewis's gaze darted from his sergeant to his chief superintendent and then back to his sergeant again. "James?"

Hathaway didn't answer. Even though he was sure that Robbie approved of what he'd done and the reasons he'd done it, he very much doubted that the inspector approved of the way he'd gone about it. Although Lewis did occasionally bend the rules, he tended to avoid subtle subterfuge, unless it was absolutely necessary. What was more, he hated being lied to even more than he hated lying himself. It was one thing for the two of them to keep secrets from Innocent or Hobson; it was something entirely different for the two of them to keep secrets from each other.

Of course, it hadn't been a _lie_ exactly. Hathaway had just neglected to mention all of this to his inspector. Part of the reasons had been practical; Lewis was absolutely rubbish at keeping secrets. Besides which, Lewis would probably recommend tipping off Malcolm and/or Innocent about this.

But Hathaway knew that the other reasons for not informing his inspector had been a bit more personal. The older man was like a second father to James, and he hated the thought that his actions might have disappointed Lewis.

"If you don't mind, Robbie. I'd recommend you leave us now, Robbie. I need to have a word with your sergeant. And things are bound to get a bit…_heated_ to say the least."

Lewis nodded and made to exit the room, closing the door behind him as he went. Hathaway watched the older man go, slightly comforted in the fact that Innocent at least had the decency not to shout at him in front of Lewis.

"Sit down, James."

"Ma'am?"

"I _insist_."

The sergeant did as he was told, bracing himself for the coming lecture. But surprisingly, it didn't come. Instead, he was greeted by unwelcome and overlong silence.

"Ma'am," he said after several seconds had passed. " I believe you had something you wanted to say to me."

"_Did I_?" Innocent asked, her every syllable oozing with sarcasm. "Thank you _so_ much for reminding me, James. I'd forgotten that _you_ hold all the power in our professional relationship."

"Ma'am?"

"Tell me, sergeant; are you aware of the hierarchy we have here at the Oxfordshire Police?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hathaway muttered quietly.

" Would you care to remind me of our policies? My memory seems to have gone a bit fuzzy. You report to two and only two people—am I correct?" As Hathaway nodded reluctantly, Innocent continued. "And who exactly are these two people? It seems to have slipped my mind."

"Yourself and Inspector Lewis."

"And who does Inspector Lewis report to?"

" He reports to you."

The chief superintendent began stroking her chin in mock thought. "So, let me get this straight. Regardless of whether you choose to liaise with me directly or through Inspector Lewis, I should be informed of any and all important updates to your inquiries?"

"Yes, alright. Now will you please stop beating around the bush and just get to the bloody point already?"

" Do you want to know what I think about you, James? Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"I'm starting to think you have split personalities. There's one James Hathaway who's clever and quiet and responsible and respectful and a pleasure to work with. And then, there's the other James Hathaway—deceitful, controlling, ambitious, insubordinate, impertinent, arrogant…"

He was starting to feel his pulse hammering in his neck and colour flooding his face in fury. "Look, if you want a confession, I'll give it to you. Yes, I went behind your back to the chief constable. Yes, I tried to rid you of a man who at best shows clear signs of a pathological obsession and who at worst has homicidal tendencies! Yes, I disregarded procedure; yes, I showed clear signs of insubordination. But if you want an _apology_ because I –unlike you—genuinely care enough about your own health and safety to do something to ensure their protection…"

"This isn't about my protection—considering I don't need any protection in the first place! This is about you and Harvey and fucking male pride! And whatever it was that made the two of you hate each other in the first place."

" It i_s_ about the protection—which you do need much as you might try to deny it—_and _it's about that bastard Malcolm. I never said the two were mutually exclusive. In any case, you should be thanking me. At least, I got that scumbag off your back—for now at least."

" Thanking you? Have you ever considered that I might prefer to keep Malcolm here?" Innocent lowered her voice to a terse whisper.

"You _what?_"

"At least, here I'm able to keep track of his movements, make sure he doesn't leave town under the cover of darkness before we're finished with him."

Comprehension dawned on Hathaway. " You suspect him too?"

"Let's just say I like to keep an open mind. Harvey's always had a violent temper, and to say, he's possessive is a bit of an understatement. But still, I don't see him committing murder—and certainly not of the pre-meditated variety. A crime of passion would be more his speed. And in case, I think he'd be prudent enough to skip town before the long arm of the law wraps itself around him. He may be delusional, arrogant, and obnoxious, but he's not _stupid_."

Hathaway had conflicting opinions on this matter, but he chose not to voice them, remaining silent as Innocent returned to her previous tirade.

"Anyway, don't change the subject. Regardless of your motivations, you still blatantly and wilfully disregarded procedure. And in doing so, you've brought shame to me, yourself, Inspector Lewis, and the Oxfordshire Police as a whole." She lowered her voice—mindful that if she persisted with shouting as she did, she'd lose it before the meeting was over. " If this were an isolated incident, I might be able to overlook it, but in light of the rest of your recent behaviour, I'm afraid I have no choice but to suspend you. I'll give you an hour or so to collect your things and say goodbye to Lewis, but after that I don't want to see you anywhere near the station for the next three days—under _any_ circumstances."

It was a milder sentence than he'd expected, though it was still more severe than he'd have liked. He nodded his consent and then got up to leave. When he reached the door, he paused and glanced back at Innocent. " Ma'am, I…I just want to say one thing before I go." Innocent gave a noncommittal shrug of acquiescence, and the sergeant continued. "Though you may not realise it, your life is important to a lot of people—far more important than even your reputation, believe it or not. Just please…please promise me that you'll be careful."

"James…I…"

" You don't have to say anything. Just think about it, please." Without even glancing back to check her reaction, Detective Sergeant James Hathaway opened the door and walked through it.


	18. 18: A Question of Trust

Chapter Eighteen—A Question of Trust

As disgruntled as Hathaway was about his suspension, he had to admit that there were some agreeable things about the situation. He was finally out from under Harvey Malcolm's thumb for one thing—didn't have to put up with the accusing stares and malicious allegations. The extra free time was another welcome compensation. After he finished the drink in front of him, he was planning to return home and spend a quality afternoon with his guitar—something he hadn't done in what felt like years. And maybe he'd get to…

Oh, whom was he kidding? He was already thoroughly bored, and it hadn't even been three hours since he'd left. How was he supposed to last another two-and-a-half days?

It wasn't just the dullness that worried him, however. He wondered how Lewis was going to cope without him. To his knowledge, they'd never solved a case without each other since they'd been paired. True, there had been the odd case where one member of the team discovered the final clue and had been forced to act immediately without having any time to alert his partner of the update. But this…this was different. Lewis was going to need to put the whole damned puzzle together on his own—not just the final piece. If only Hathaway had thought to keep his mouth shut for just one more day, they might have made some decent progress. But he hadn't kept his mouth shut, and now he was off the case.

_Or was he?_ He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Innocent earlier in the day. Unless he was missing his guess, the chief superintendent had only said he wasn't to go anywhere near the station for the next three days; she hadn't said anything about his being "off the case" or banned from talking to his inspector. There was still plenty of investigating that could be done away from the workplace; he might go to the hospital and see if Innocent's sister could remember anything from the attack, or he might go back home and look through some of Innocent's old case files a second time—in the hopes of picking up on something he'd missed last time.

Although Hathaway knew that—by doing this—he'd be severely testing his professional relationship with Innocent for the third time in one week, he didn't much care. He was more than willing to break a few rules if it meant keeping her safe. Besides, James wasn't the only one who'd been reckless.

What had Innocent been thinking—wandering around Oxford at night with only an inebriated sister for protection? It would've been a dangerous feat even under ordinary circumstances; an attractive, well-dressed woman would be a tempting target to all sorts of dodgy characters. But these hadn't been ordinary circumstances—had they: an overzealous ex-boyfriend, a murdered husband, veiled death threats? How could someone who was normally so clever, so cautious show such negligence when it came to her own safety?

A horrible thought then struck Hathaway. What if… what if Jean didn't care anymore?

As of late, he'd often seen a look in her eyes that frightened him—an unfocused emptiness that suggested the chief superintendent wasn't _all there_, that—present though her body might have been—her mind and heart were light-years away.

Troubling as this thought was, it wasn't the only thing that worried James. He knew she wasn't sleeping regularly—if at all—and he was starting to think that might actually be a blessing.

The nightmares were the worst part in Hathaway's experience: the fact that not even rest was sacred, the fact that even the things you'd managed to supress in waking memory came back to you in horrifically vivid detail as you slept, the moment when you awoke to a frightening black emptiness and suddenly remembered why you'd been so terrified of the dark as a child.

Innocent's dreams were even worse than Hathaway's in all likelihood. She'd been on the force for far longer than he had, and she'd served with the Met for a while. And that wasn't even taking into account the traumatic events of the past week.

It was slightly different for James, though. He'd slept alone for so long that he'd almost gotten used to it. But Jean…Jean had once had someone to hold her when the world seemed to be collapsing around her. She'd gotten used to clinging to someone for support, and now…now she was going to have to re-learn something for which she'd been highly-out-of-practice for years—the art of coping alone.

He hoped she realised that she didn't have to go through this completely alone—that there were people who'd be there for her if she'd only ask for their help.

But _would_ she ask? That was the real question. Hathaway was inclined to think that she would not, but then again, he was currently seeing a side of Jean Innocent he'd never seen before—a side he hoped he'd never have to see again. The one good thing about this new lost, confused, highly emotional model was that she needed help so obviously and desperately that she might actually seek it out herself.

And if she _didn't_ seek help? Well then, Hathaway supposed help would just have to seek her. Lewis would be an ideal choice for a confidant; not only was he patient, compassionate, and a remarkably good listener, but he also had some inclination of what Innocent was currently experiencing.

But what if…what if the memories were still too painful for Robbie to revisit? What if it was still too soon? Who would Jean turn to in those circumstances?

James knew that the least he could do was offer his own comfort, but he was highly dubious as to how desirable or effective his "help" would prove. While he'd witnessed many tragedies in his life, he'd never experienced anything quite like this. He wouldn't know what to do or say, how to respond. Hell, he had enough trouble talking to women under ordinary circumstances. What was more, the last time he'd tried to comfort this particular woman, he'd ended up behaving in a highly inappropriate manner.

Still, Innocent needed someone, and even if there was no possible way that James could help, he should still give it his best effort. He owed her that much.

" James?" He heard a voice beside him and turned his head toward the source. _Why speak of the devil!_

Not that Innocent_ was_ the devil of course. If anything she was the other extreme—so honourable that it could prove a right pain in the arse sometimes.

But anyway, all this was beside the point. How long had she been there? He must've been so lost in thought that he'd missed her entrance—further proof that this case had left him dangerously unfocused.

" Ma'am. I…er…. What are you doing here?"

" Well, I've just gotten back from the hospital to visit my sister. And well, I'm…I'm not really all that eager to return to the station in all honesty. So, I guess you could say that I'm dragging my feet a bit. Or that I'm giving myself a bit of liquid courage," she said, holding up a half-full glass.

"How is your sister doing by the way?"

Innocent sighed. " She's fine—weak, but still expected to make a full recovery. Not that the doctor's have been all that much comfort to me. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit of a worrier by nature."

He grinned. " Oh, I've noticed ma'am. I've _definitely _noticed."

Jean was a worrier all right—about everyone and everything except her own safety. Though he wouldn't have dreamed of bringing this up, Hathaway couldn't help but find it imprudent that she'd elected to go to the hospital unaccompanied—at a time when she really shouldn't be making a move without back-up.

An awkward silence overtook the pair of them, and Hathaway finally said something that had been weighing on his mind.

" Look, erm…there's something I should've told you. And that is that I'm sorry…about earlier—not for what I did, cause I still think that it was the right thing to do. But I _am _sorry that my actions upset you so much."

Innocent took a sip of her drink, and then answered." What really irritated me is not what you _did_ so much; it's the fact that you didn't discuss this with me beforehand."

"I assumed you'd…get angry, I suppose."

" And I would've, but not as upset as I am now. It's just…all the sneaking around—not only on this case but on others as well… I can't help but wonder if…if maybe…maybe you don't _trust_ me or something."

" I have to admit trust does play into it, but it's not so much a question of me not trusting _you_. It's got more to do with your not trusting _me_."

She stared at him for a long moment, looking unsure whether she was more surprised or hurt by his answer. " James… while I may disapprove of some of your choices, never think for a moment that I don't _trust_ you." She paused, and he contemplated this for a moment. " If you…if you want proof, just sit and think for a moment. Do you really think that I'd have assigned a case that's so important to me to someone I didn't trust, someone that I wasn't 100% sure would do anything and everything in his power to grant me the answers I need?"

He was genuinely touched by her response, but he still couldn't help feeling that her trust was misplaced. Despite the fact that it had been almost five full days since the murder, no real progress had yet been made in the investigation, and Hathaway knew that this was due to his fault rather than Lewis's. In his recent inquiries, the sergeant had proven himself incapable of staying objective when it really mattered. He'd let himself care too much, which could be just as dangerous as not caring enough. Not to mention the fact that he was caring about the wrong thing. Lately, his focus had been primarily on protecting Jean—whether from Harvey Malcolm's amorous designs or from those of a far-more sinister figure. His real aim should've been to find the killer as soon as possible, so that protection wasn't necessary.

"Anyway…." Innocent said, lancing down at her watch. " I really should be getting back to the station now. It was…it was nice talking to you, James." She gathered her things and left.

A minute or so after she'd gone, he noticed that she'd left her keys behind, and grabbing them, he quickly ran out after her. He could only just make her out from where he stood, and he made to follow her, doubling his pace when he realised that he wasn't the only one doing so….

* * *

She could see him out of the corner of her eye—the black hooded sweatshirt, the tall, muscular frame. Unless Jean was missing her guess, it was the same figure that had been watching her at John's funeral, the one who'd made her momentarily question her previously held notion that she wasn't in danger after all.

The chief superintendent tried to tell herself that she was being paranoid. Hooded sweatshirts weren't exactly rare articles of clothing—were they? And even if it was the same man, this was surely a coincidence. He _wasn't_ following her.

Still, she couldn't help but lengthen her strides as she walked to her car, taking careful note of the locations of any CCTV cameras and wishing that the street was a bit more occupied.

When she reached her destination, she began fumbling frantically in her handbag for her keys. They had to be in there somewhere.

He was getting closer and closer by the second, and she knew that she'd feel much more secure in a locked car.

She peered into the window, wondering if she'd foolishly left the keys in the ignition, but she didn't see them. Where the Hell could they be? She needed to find them soon; if this man really was stalking her, she didn't have much time left.

She felt hands grabbing her by the waist and she instinctively swung her handbag upward to hit her attacker. The contents of the purse spilled out onto the pavement, and the chief superintendent carefully surveyed them, wondering if there was anything she could use among them.

A pack of tissues? Maybe if she started crying, her attacker would show pity or something. It was a long shot, but…ah, whom was she kidding?

Her wallet? She could always try bribing him—though she had a feeling if he'd wanted her money, he would've just taken it.

A varied array of cosmetics? Well, the eyeliner pencil might be of some use. She'd barely used it, so it should still be fairly sharp—good for poking someone with for lack of a better weapon.

Her mobile? Bingo! Even if she wasn't able to phone or text someone in time, the device might still have some use. Innocent thought she remembered hearing about some fashion model who'd been convicted of assault because she kept beating people with her phone.

The problem was getting to it. Jean began trodding very firmly on her attacker's toes, and when that failed, she repositioned her legs and kneed him in the groin. The attacker's grip slackened momentarily, and she took advantage of this opportunity to escape, bending down to grab her phone as she did so. She ran as fast as she could, cursing her decision to wear heels today.

Eventually, Innocent felt someone grab her by the ankle and force her to the pavement. She reeled her head around to get her first real look at her attacker's face: cold, dark eyes, a pale, almost- anaemic skin tone, thin lips curved into a mirthless smile—features she hadn't seen in years, and she'd prayed she'd never see again.

Jean suddenly forgot about her phone, forgot about escaping, forgot about everything except the heart she could feel rapidly pounding in her chest.

The man withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and held it firmly against Innocent's nose, a sickly-sweet scent soon filling her nostrils.

Though her surroundings grew fuzzy, she could still hear a voice calling her name. Jean knew that voice, but she couldn't quite remember to whom it belonged. She felt the handkerchief leave her nose, and then, she heard loud footsteps, more shouting, what sounded like punches being thrown. The chief superintendent reminded herself of the need to stay awake, but she could feel her eyelids growing undeniably heavier.

Maybe if she were only to rest her eyes for a moment…

* * *

**I've already made significant progress on the next chapter, so I hope it will be up sometime this week. As always, reviews are much appreciated.**


	19. 19: Standing Together

Chapter Nineteen—Standing Together

When Jean Innocent finally regained consciousness, she found herself in a dark room without any windows. She sat up and took a few deep breaths.

" You're awake; thank God. You were so still, and I had trouble finding a pulse…I …well…I didn't know what to think."

Her eyes had finally started to adjust to the lack of light, and she was able to make out a lanky figure kneeling beside her. Surely, she was dreaming—surely this was yet another nightmare. " James? What are you doing here?"

"We were talking in the pub, remember? And you left your keys behind, so I ran out after you to give them back to you."

Everything slowly came back to her. " I was walking to my car, and then…that man…I think he must've knocked me out, cause the last thing I remember is his face. But how did _you_ end up here?"

"I…I ran over—tried to stop him from hurting you. Got a black eye for my trouble, though he didn't exactly come out unscathed either," the sergeant trailed off, somehow to able to summon a mischievous grin despite all the uncertainty. His smile soon faded as he continued. "Eventually, the man took out a knife and held it to your throat, threatening to slit it if I didn't cooperate. Think he must've knocked me out too, cause I can't really remember much else until I woke up here a few minutes ago—wherever 'here' is."

"Why in heaven's name didn't you run?"

" I wanted to help you—_had _to help you, something that I wouldn't have been able to do if I'd run."

" Yes, you would've. You might have called for back-up—either an official detail from the station or an unofficial one made of some of the people in the pub. And there were no less than 3 CCTV cameras in the vicinity; you might've also attempted to get footage from them."

" I didn't think…"

" _That_ is obvious!" Innocent shouted. "Of all idiotic things to do! You might have been killed; you may be yet for all we know. Do you have any idea what that man is capable of?"

" Do _you_?" She gave a noncommittal shrug. " Who is he, Jean?"

" I'm not completely sure. I was only able to get a brief glimpse at his face, and well, it was the absolute last person I was expecting to see. But…but I think it was Richard Trout," Innocent said after a long moment had passed.

" The man from your nightmare." She glanced at him, surprised that he had remembered. "I thought he was dead."

" So did I, but I suppose a man who's already weaselled his way out of a murder conviction should be able to cheat death as well."

They sat there in silence for a time until finally Hathaway spoke again. "Why?"

" Because I was young and foolish and impulsive."

" In other words, you weren't so very different from me?"

She gave him a weak smile. "I'm not impulsive anymore—that's for sure, nor am I as young as I used to be, but still so foolish…" She felt her eyes starting to moisten and looked away.

" No, you're not. Stubborn and irrational, yes, but never foolish." The conviction in his voice astounded her, and she looked back to him and found the same conviction in his eyes. " Look, I understand, if you don't want to talk about this man and whatever it is he did, but if you did want to talk…"

Another long silence. Then, suddenly, she responded.

" It was…well…it must have been about fifteen years ago, now that I think on it. I'd just made inspector…I remember that much. Anyway, my sister contacted me and asked me to look into the disappearance of a friend of hers, one Amanda Smythe."

" Is this the same Amanda Smythe whose brother just committed suicide?"

She nodded. " Though after today, I'm starting to doubt that it _was_ suicide. As I was technically on leave at the time, it wasn't a formal inquiry."

Hathaway nodded. " That explains why it didn't show up in your records."

"Anyway, I eventually figured out that the Smythe's new neighbour Richard Trout was behind the disappearance, and I went to his house to confront him. That's when everything started to spiral out of control."

" What do you mean?"

" Well, I…I didn't have back-up. That's the first thing that they teach you in the police academy: always have back-up. But I was young and clever, and I thought I was invincible. I guess I just assumed my formidable police presence would be enough."

" And it wasn't?"

She shook her head solemnly, and tears started to run down her nose. " Not at all. He…he laughed at me, asked me what sort of game I thought I was playing… And then, he…he looked me over and said there much better games I could be playing. Before I could say another word, he was…he was on me. When I tried to fight him off, he started hitting me over and over again. Finally, he grabbed a knife and told me that—unless I wanted to end up like Amanda Smythe—I should do exactly as he said. He ordered me to strip and then pinned me down on the sofa. "

" So, he…he…" She could see that Hathaway was struggling to get the words out.

She shook her head slightly." No, James; he didn't. He got pretty damned close, but it didn't come to that. Fortunately, the Smythes had heard the commotion and had dialled 9-9-9. Harvey Malcolm and some of his copper friends happened to be at a party a block away. They arrived just…just in time."

" What happened then?"

" Amanda Smythe's body was found a few days later in a dumpster outside of Trout's place of work. When that…that _monster_ finally went to trial, he was somehow acquitted of Amanda's murder, but he couldn't worm his way out of the sexual assault charges. So he went to prison. I believe five years was his original sentence, but there was some sort of incident with another inmate, and Trout ended up with a manslaughter conviction. The last I'd heard of him, he had committed suicide, which obviously wasn't the case."

Innocent was trembling now and looked far younger and far more vulnerable than Hathaway ever seen her. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "And now, John is dead, and it's all my fault," she sobbed, burying her head in her crossed arms, so he wouldn't see the tears falling and think less of her for them.

He gaped at her." You're not telling me that you blame yourself?"

Jean lifted her head gently." Why not? Assuming Trout _is_ the killer, he only murdered my husband to hurt _me_. If I hadn't stuck my nose where it didn't belong, John might still be alive."

" None of this is your fault, Jean, _none_ of it. And by blaming yourself, you're letting that sick bastard win."

" Don't you understand, James? He already _has_ won!" the chief superintendent shouted." My husband's dead, my sister's been hospitalized, and _our _chances of getting out of this unscathed aren't looking too good either!"

" Then, I guess you're not the woman I thought you were."

" What do you mean?"

" The Jean Innocent I know never lets anyone or anything make her believe that she is anything less than extraordinary." He gently placed a hand on her face and wiped away any of her remaining tears with his fingers. "And she _is _extraordinary—extraordinary and strong and clever and brave_._"

" Am I really all that?"

He nodded. " Yeah, but before you start flattering yourself, I should remind you that you're also unreasonable, stubborn,temperamental, and infuriating."

She laughed and then grew solemn again." Look, I don't know how all this is going to end, but I want you to know that it was an honour working with you."

"Ditto. My only regret is that I'll never see Lewis again."

" Maybe, you still can." He looked at her curiously, and she hesitated, knowing that he was going to hate what she was about to say but that she must say it anyway.

"Chances are that before Trout kills us, he's going to want to have 'his way' with me—finish what he started all those years ago. If and when that happens, he's probably going to separate us, and I want you to take that opportunity to run, James. Get as far away from here as you can, and don't return unless and until you've got adequate back-up. I doubt that Trout will chase after you. I'm the one he wants, and he won't want to allow me any opportunity to escape…"

" I won't do it; I _can't_."

" This isn't a request, sergeant," she said in her most commanding voice.

"That doesn't change anything. After all, this wouldn't be the first time I've disobeyed orders."

" Then, why should it be the last time?" Innocent pleaded. "If you won't do it for me, do it for Robbie. You know that you're like a son to him. He'll fall apart if he loses you."

" On a night we'd both rather forget, you told me that officers should stand together when they need each other. Well, whether you admit it or not, you need me now, Jean—far more than Robbie does."

" But…"

" But _nothing._ Lewis will understand; I'm sure he'd do the same if he were in my position. Besides, can you imagine the guilt _I'd_ feel if I abandoned you?"

" Is that guilt any less severe than the guilt _I'd_ feel if you stayed? I've…I've already got one death on my conscience. And you… you're far too young to die…"

" So are you."

" That may be, but _damn_ it, James, I still can't let you throw your life away so carelessly!"

" I wouldn't be 'throwing my life away'; you're well-worth dying for. And in any case, it's not like either of us is going to go down without a fight. There's still a chance we can make it out of this alive."

They sat there in silence for a time, and then Innocent finally spoke again "James, if I were to rest my head against your shoulder, would you promise not to do anything drastic?"

" You mean like declaring my undying love? I wouldn't dream of it, and just for the record, I have no intention of kissing you either."

" That's a relief," she said as she gently placed her head on his shoulder. A moment later, he grabbed hold of her hand. She glanced up at him curiously.

" I'm sorry; I suppose that _was_ a bit drastic. Do you want me to let go?"

" No, it's just what I need," she responded and squeezed his hand gently.

Neither of them knew for sure exactly how long they sat like that; it might have seconds, minutes, _hours_ even, but in any case, it was still was far too short of a time. Eventually, Richard Trout entered the room. Hathaway rose to his feet and stood protectively between Innocent and Trout." If you want her, you have to go through me first."

Trout shrugged slightly. " Have it your way."

Hathaway responded by throwing a punch that the older man ducked easily. Trout threw a punch of his own that made contact this time. As the sergeant was doubling over in pain, Trout roughly pushed the other man down. Hathaway's head hit the concrete floor sharply. Though his surroundings were gradually fading, he could hear Innocent's high-heeled footsteps running towards him and her voice, frantic with worry—needing to know that he was alright.

_As though any of that mattered when he had failed her._

He tried to get up—to make one final stand but found himself unable.

" I'm sorry, Jean. I tried," he attempted to say, but his lips wouldn't form the words.

The last thing James Hathaway was aware of before he lost consciousness was the maniacal laughter of Richard Trout as he dragged Jean Innocent out of the room.


	20. 20: Running Out of Time

_So just a little warning, this chapter and the one that follows are gonna be a bit darker than the rest of the story—though still not particularly graphic. And while this is probably the most disturbing thing I've ever written (and believe me I __**did**__ feel evil writing bits of it)—compared to some fics out there—it's actually fairly tame._

* * *

Chapter Twenty—Running Out of Time

To say that Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis was worried would have been an understatement. Desperate and frantic were more like it, though even those words seemed insufficient to describe his emotions.

Innocent should have returned from the hospital ages ago. This wasn't like her at all. The chief superintendent was always punctual, and on the rare occasion that she wasn't, she made sure to call in advance to inform everyone of her delay. Furthermore, Lewis had phoned her mobile countless times since then, no one picked up. He'd then phoned the hospital and had been informed that the chief superintendent had checked out at the desk over three hours previously.

He'd decided to try Hathaway then to see if he knew where the chief superintendent might've gone; the two of them were, after all, temporary flatmates—albeit reluctant ones. But James too wasn't answering either his mobile or his landline—though Lewis had tried both several.

Lewis had then been forced to confront what he'd secretly been fearing from the start: Innocent and Hathaway were together, and wherever they were, they were in danger.

Robbie sprinted down to IT and informed the team there of the situation. The information used to trace Hathaway's and Innocent's mobiles soon revealed a signal coming from the same house in Jericho. Lewis wrote down the exact address and informed the others to call him right away if the signal changed location.

Then, he ran off in search of Strange, eventually finding the former (and now current, if only temporarily) chief superintendent having a cup of coffee in the break room with his former protégé DS Adrian Kershaw. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Lewis explained what he'd learned and revealed his intention to go after his two fellow officers.

Expecting a protest from Strange, Lewis was shocked when no real objection was made. Provided that Lewis agreed to take two additional cars of back-up with him, Strange agreed to give him permission. Robbie's surprise intensified when Kershaw insisted upon coming along.

" James is my friend too," the younger man reminded him, " and I can't bear the thought of anything happening to Innocent either. Besides, you're going to need all the help you can get."

After contacting the officers who would serve as back-up and finding driving directions online, Lewis and Kershaw hurried out to the car park, where Robbie was confronted by the last person in the world he wanted to see right now—unless of course Lewis counted the bastard who'd taken his friends, in which case the man standing in front of him was only the second-worst person imaginable.

" I went down to IT for a quick question," Harvey Malcolm said. " And I heard them saying something about Jean…and your sergeant," he added as an afterthought, "being in some sort of trouble." Malcolm's voice was strained, and Robbie could hear the fear in it.

" Yeah," Lewis replied coolly. " That's true. Now, if you'll excuse us, Sergeant Kershaw and I have a very pressing engagement."

" Oh, my God." Malcolm let in a sharp intake of breath. "You're going after them—aren't you?"

" Never mind that. Just get out of the way!"

" Take me with you."

Lewis gaped at him." What?"

" You heard me, take me with you." For the first time since Lewis had known him, Harvey Malcolm was pleading—not imploring, not requesting, but actually _pleading_. " I…I need to see her…tell her I'm sorry…make sure that she's not… but she can't be…not …not _Jean_." He sounded not, as though he truly believed what he was saying, but rather that he was trying to convince himself that this was the truth.

Lewis took a moment to study the other man, realizing that Malcolm was being serious. Innocent's former lover was breathing heavily and shaking slightly, trying to hold back what appeared to be unshed tears. Something almost like pity moved in Lewis's heart for the man; obnoxious and perverted as he was, Harvey Malcolm must have had a heart after all.

" Alright, " Lewis said a moment later. " But under one condition: that you do _exactly_ what I say, no questions asked."

" But surely as the senior officer, I…" Malcolm protested.

The inspector pushed past him." Then, we're leaving you behind."

" No, wait! I'll…I'll do it! I don't like it, but I'll do it."

Lewis smiled. " That's the first sensible thing you've said all week. Now, get in the car, Harvey, and you too, Adrian. We've got to hurry."

* * *

Although Innocent was doing her best to escape from Trout's grasp, there was very little that she could do. He was—after all—half a foot taller than she was and probably twice as heavy She bit and kicked and punched every inch of him that she could reach but to no avail. He did not seem at all perturbed her by her attempts to fight back. Quite the contrary, he seemed amused.

Once they had finally reached a door at the top of the staircase, he whispered in her ear, " Keep struggling, darling. It makes it all the more fun for me. I like it rough—don't you remember?"

He opened the door and pushed her inside. She tripped and landed sharply on the wood floor. She gingerly got to her feet and winced at the pain in her knees. It would be difficult to try to run away like that, even if she hadn't been wearing heels.

She had to try, had to make an attempt. But she was hurt, and Trout's massive figure was still blocking the door.

Maybe, there'd be time after… after _it _(Jean couldn't bring herself to call what was about to happen to her by its proper name) happened. Maybe Trout would fall asleep once he'd taken what he wanted. Maybe she'd be able to sneak out then.

It was a faint hope, but it gave her courage and reminded her of the task at hand: get out and find James. That was all she cared about anymore, and regardless of what Trout did to her, she _was_ going to get out and find James. She couldn't consider the alternative so she kept repeating her goal like a mantra in her mind.

' _Get out and find James'. Get out and find James. Get out…'_

Eventually, Trout moved away from the door and walked toward her. She forced herself to keep focusing on what she needed to do, but she couldn't stop the involuntary shudder when Trout touched her face.

" Nice, very nice. You're not nearly as pretty now as you were then, but I think you'll do.' He moved his hand down from her face and onto her chest. ' Yes, I think you'll do _perfectly_.'

' _Get out and find James,' _she tried to remind herself, but it was so hard to focus on anything else when Trout's hand was on her. It was as though nothing had changed in the fifteen years that had passed. He was still big and cruel and terrifying, and she was still small and afraid and weak.

No, not _weak. _ She was bloody _extraordinary_—that's what she was. Hadn't Hathaway told her that only a few moments ago, though it seemed a lifetime? Hadn't her own mother told her that more times than she could remember?

Emboldened by this new sense of purpose, she worked out a gob of saliva and spit it into Trout's eye. The slap came before she could blink.

" You're certainly feisty—aren't you? That Smythe girl was a feisty one too," he said, eyes shining with nostalgia. "But in the end, she knew when to quit. And you will too; I'll make sure of it. Before I'm done with you, you'll have lost all resistance."

" No, I won't. Whatever you do to me, I'm going to keep fighting."

He grabbed her arm and twisted it sharply behind her back, making her flinch in pain. He then brought his mouth close to her ear, moving near enough for her to smell his rancid breath." You're not going to have a choice. I want you broken—first your spirits and then your body. Just the way you broke me." He released his grasp on her arm and threw her to the floor. Do you have any idea what prison did to me?"

She did her best to look him in the eye, aware that breaking eye contact would reveal how truly afraid she was." I didn't 'break' you at all. Prison was your own choice, a fitting punishment for your crimes. A perfect cage for a monster."

" Oh, monster—am I? I'm not the monster here; _you_ are—you and that Smythe girl and all your kind. Bloody teases! The way you prance around in those short skirts and high heels. And you were the worst of all, batting those pretty little eyes if you thought it would get you a clue. You led me on, tempted me until I couldn't stand it anymore. And then, just when I was so damned close to having you…you just had to spoil my fun—didn't you? And then the trial came, and you batted those pretty little eyes at the jury, and I lost _everything_—my home, my self-respect, my friends, my career. And I swore then and there, that somehow I'd make you pay, that someday I'd destroy you the way that you destroyed me."

Maybe there was another way to get out of this. Maybe if she could just keep him talking…"You were…you were dead? How?"

" A few friends in high places will get you anywhere. I take it you've never heard of Edmund Flannery?" he asked, and she shook her head. "Well, he's heard of you. He had a half-brother that you might remember though, George King."

Innocent shrugged. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but nothing was readily coming to mind. She shouldn't have been too surprised. She'd been on the force for so long that many of the names and faces had started to blur together in her mind.

" Poor chap," Trout continued a minute later, "died in prison with a nasty case of HIV he'd contracted there. Another man who you'd destroyed." He emphasized this point with a sharp punch to Innocent's gut. "Anyway, after ol' Georgie snuffed it, his brother learned that he and I had something in common: we both wanted you put in your proper place."

He paused for a moment, mouth curving in a crooked smile—no doubt imagining exactly what he planned to do with her over the next few hours. Jean found that she could not supress a shudder of her own at the thought.

Eventually, Trout drew himself out of the reverie and continued his story. "Now Edmund Flannery's a respectable gent; he didn't want to dirty _his _hands with murder, but he was more than willing to help _me_ get away with it. A few well-placed bribes to a few dodgy prison guards, and I was home-free, dead as far as the world was concerned but still very-much alive. Of course, I had to kill 'em afterwards—couldn't risk them blabbing. Flannery too, though I was a bit more careful with his remains and was able to get good use out of his bank account and credit card before people realised he was missing. Even bought this charming place with his money, though it's listed under a false name."

Innocent looked around the room. There was really nothing particularly "charming" about it: the strong scent of mothballs, a ceiling covered with mildew, windowless walls in bad need of a paint job. So this was to be her fate, then? To be forced onto the lumpy bed in the corner and _used_ until Trout grew bored with her and decided to take the menacing-looking silver knife off the badly-scratched end table?

' _Not if I can help it.' _She continued to glance around the room in search of something that could help her get out of here. The only useful thing she saw was the knife, but it would be tricky to get ahold of it. And knowing Trout, she wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that he had another knife on his person.

" Lovely," she drawled sarcastically, making an effort not to show any of the fear that had taken hold of her. " You really must give me the name of your interior decorator."

" I'm so glad you like it, because it's going to be the last place you ever see." He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her over to the bed. " Enough talk. I've waited fifteen years for this; I'm not going to wait much longer."

* * *

Hathaway sat up in the dark room. He reached up to touch his head and felt a lump there.

' _Must have happened when my head hit the floor, after …' _

Everything came back to him at once. James got to his feet carefully and felt around in the dark. He couldn't see where he was going, but he didn't care. He had to get out—had to find Jean.

But what if it was already too late? He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. It had felt like only a few minutes, but for all he knew, it might have been hours.

He kept going, trying not to think about what Trout might have already done to Innocent or might be in the process of doing right now as Hathaway stood here, useless and trapped in this dark, dank basement.

James felt himself trip over something but quickly rose to his feet and kept going. Eventually, he found the doorknob. He reached for it and soon realized that it was locked. Though it took him several tries, the sergeant eventually succeeded in breaking down the door with a strong, well-aimed kick. Not even taking a moment to mentally congratulate himself on a job well done, James walked through the doorframe and up the stairs. He heard the loud unmistakable sound of mattress springs coming from a room nearby and walked over, noticing that the door was slightly ajar.

Without stopping to plan what he'd do when he got inside the room, Hathaway opened the door completely and walked through it.


	21. 21: Leaving Procedure Behind

Chapter Twenty-One—Leaving Procedure Behind

Innocent wanted to move more than anything in the world, but she simply couldn't. Even if a sharp knife wasn't currently being held to her throat, she doubted she would have been able to so much as lift a finger. She was completely paralyzed with fear and with memories.

Jean thought of the week she'd spent in the hospital the first time she'd had run afoul of Richard Trout. She'd wound up with a broken arm, a deep, infected gash on her stomach from Trout's blade, and a bloody nose. And that wasn't even including the countless bruises, which had spanned her entire physique. But though the bruises had finally faded over a month later, the real wounds weren't something time and the doctors could have healed. Richard Trout had scarred Jean Innocent's soul, just as his knife had scarred her body.

She'd sworn that she'd never let herself feel so helpless again, and for the most part, she hadn't. In the fifteen years since Trout's assault, she had become braver, wiser, more efficient, more cautious.

But that self-improvement hadn't stopped her from being found by him now. That self-improvement hadn't made her able to protect the two people she loved most in the world, attacked for no other reason than _because_ she loved them. That self-improvement wasn't going to stop her from being sullied right then and there.

Trout grinned broadly at her. " Scared, eh? I'm not surprised. They're always scared when I make love to them."

The expression" making love" had always perplexed Innocent, since sex and love were such separate entities in her mind. True, they were often connected, but sex could also be the result of lust, confusion, loneliness, alcohol, or a variety of other factors.

However, the euphemism had never seemed quite inappropriate as it was now. Jean knew it wasn't love or even lust that had prompted Trout to force his tongue down her throat; it was loathing, pure unadulterated hatred for all women but especially for this particular one—the one who'd gotten away, the one who'd tried to expose him for the animal he was, the one the one who'd naively thought she was finally safe.

Aware as Jean was that it was foolish to fight him—that the more she struggled, the more he'd make her regret it—it was impossible to resist a golden opportunity to pay back even a little of the pain he'd give to her. She bit down hard with her front teeth. Trout immediately removed his tongue from her mouth, and Innocent was satisfied to see a few droplets of blood drip from his lips.

" Damn, you've got spirit! More spirit than most."

" Most?"

" The other women. That Smythe girl wasn't the first. I'd had five others before her. You'll be my lucky number seven," he said, winking at her. " They were all very different, but they all respond in the same way. They cry and scream and maybe even fight back for a long time, but I'm patient, very patient. Eventually, they stop resisting completely. You will too—though I'll expect you'll take a very long time to break. I'm glad; it'll be far more rewarding when you finally do crack."

As one of Trout's hands continued to press the knife against Innocent's neck, the other hand occupied itself with the task of trying to remove her blouse. Every button that Trout unfastened seemed to further seal the inevitability of Jean's fate, causing a horrific scene to start playing in her mind.

_Dr Hobson, wearing her scrubs and gloves, was standing in the morgue beside a table covered by a white sheet. The pathologist carefully folded the top part of the sheet and revealed the pale face of the body lying beneath it—the same face that greeted Jean Innocent every time she looked into a mirror._

" _So, it's true, then?" asked a familiar voice, and the scene widened to show Lewis standing beside Laura. " I didn't want to believe it when I got the news. She…she always seemed so tough, so invincible." _

"_Sadly, no one is invincible, Robbie."_

" _I wish I could've…"_

" _Stopped this? I don't think there's anything you could have done." Hobson sighed. "Though I know how you feel, I wish now I had apologized for shouting at her the other day. I know it couldn't have prevented anything, but still…"_

_Lewis nodded and then spoke again, his voice, a tremulous whisper. "So…er…what…what else do I…need to know?"_

" _You don't __**need**__ to know anything else, Robbie; in fact it would be best if you didn't learn any more. It would only haunt you. Ask Strange to put someone else on the case."_

" _You know I can't do that. This bastard needs to be found and put behind bars, and I've got to be the one that does it. It's…it's all I can do for them now. __**Please**__, Laura."_

_Hobson spoke, though the strained expression on her face suggested that her every word was causing her pain." There…there are clear signs of sexual activity, occurring shortly before her death. The evidence seems to indicate that…" Hobson swallowed. " …That it wasn't consensual. Her attacker….__** forced**__ himself on her and then stabbed her repeatedly with a knife we've yet to find." _

_There was a long silence that Lewis finally ended." And what about…"_

_Hobson's eyes suddenly flooded with tears. " I'm…I'm sorry, Robbie. It's just…"_

_He enveloped her in his arms and held her for a minute before her sobs slowed. Meanwhile, tears had started leaking out of the inspector's own eyes. "I know, Laura, I know."_

_Eventually, Laura released herself from Lewis's arms and started talking. "To answer your question, Robbie, he…he was killed first and with the same weapon. The depth and shape of his knife wounds are almost a perfect match for hers. There are also traces of his blood on her body, suggesting that the instrument wasn't cleaned between the two murders. There were also clear signs of a struggle at the scene. I...I think he died trying to protect her."_

" _I'm not surprised; I can't imagine him sitting around doing nothing as his boss is being…being raped. He was never one to let someone else suffer. Compassionate, he was. Always compassionate. It's…" Robbie broke off suddenly as tears started to fall down his cheeks again. " …it's one of the things I'll miss most about him."_

" _Me too. That and his smile. He had the most-wonderful smile. Don't you think?"_

" _Yeah, he did. I…can I see him?"_

_Hobson hesitated. " Are you sure you want to?"_

" _How could I possibly __**want**__ to, Laura? But I have to. I couldn't live with meself otherwise."_

_Laura nodded and then re-covered Innocent's face. The pathologist then walked over to the next table. She carefully lowered the sheet to reveal the very still, very pale face of Detective Sergeant James Hathaway._

Innocent suddenly snapped out of her vision and into her senses. She had to find some way to stop Trout from carrying his perverse fantasy; hers wasn't the only life dependent on Trout's failure. James's face kept swimming in her mind.

It took her a moment to realize that it _wasn't _in her imagination that she was seeing him. He was here, in the room, standing by the door. When their eyes met, he placed one finger to his lips, indicating that she needed to keep her silence. She gave a curt nod and then refocused her attention on her husband's murderer. Though even if his back hadn't been turned away from the sergeant, Innocent doubted Trout would have noticed anything other than the task at hand. Having just removed Jean's shirt and having previously doffed his own, the man was now fumbling one-handedly with the fastenings of his trousers. Eventually, he seemed to realize that he was making this much harder than he needed to be. He put the knife on the bedside table so that both of his hands were free to better carry out his task.

It all happened in a blur: James running over to the table and grabbing the knife; Trout, trousers now down to his ankles, realizing a moment too late what had just happened; Hathaway advancing toward the other man, blade in hand.

" Let her go, or I swear…I won't hesitate."

" You're bluffing," the murderer said, as he grabbed both of Jean's wrists before she could manage to escape.

" _Am I_?" Hathaway's eyes were blazing with a savage, dangerous light Innocent had never seen in them before.

" No, I don't think you are," Trout said, studying the sergeant with new, appraising eyes. "You look too old to be her son, so what is she to you: sister, aunt, cousin…"

" Boss."

Trout laughed. "You think saving that pretty little arse of hers is going to earn you a pay raise or something? I wouldn't count on it."

"She's my friend."

" Is she now? I'm in shock that such a bitch has any friends at all. I'm still wondering why her name was the last thing her pathetic excuse for a husband said before he bled to death. My guess was that she was simply phenomenal in the sack, and I was just about to find out when you so rudely interrupted."

Hathaway took another two steps toward the bed and brandished the knife threateningly. " If you lay another finger on her…"

" Too late," Trout released Innocent's wrists and quickly placed his hands on the chief superintendent's neck, one on either side of her throat. " You stab, and I squeeze. Do I make myself clear?" Hathaway nodded. " Now hand me the knife back like a good little boy." James hesitated, clearly reluctant to give up the best chance he had of saving Jean and himself. To help the sergeant make up his mind, Trout started choking Innocent. He stopped after a few seconds, and then looked back at Hathaway expectantly. " That's just a taste of what's to come if you don't cooperate."

" James, don't!" Innocent said weakly as she struggled to regain her breath. "Get… _out… _while… you… still… can. I can take care of myself."

" Yeah, 'cause you've such a great job of that thus far," Hathaway remarked dryly. He walked over to the bed and knelt beside Innocent. " I'm not going to let him hurt you. The sooner you wrap your thick skull around that fact, the better off we'll both be."

" Better off? We'll both be _dead_! And you first, the very moment you hand over that knife. As your superior officer, I'm ordering you to leave immediately."

" What are you going to do if I stay? Suspend me? Throw me back in uniform? You're not in any position right now to assert your authority. Hell, at this point in time, I'm not even sure you have any authority _left_."

Unsure whether she was more flattered by his concern or frustrated with his noncompliance, Innocent tried one final technique. " I still have authority as your friend, and as your friend, I'm imploring you to see sense."

" Kind of ironic, really—as _you're_ the one who's being unreasonable."

Obviously impatient with this exchange, Trout began squeezing Jean's throat again, and Hathaway seemed to lose the small amount of sense he'd still retained. He rammed the knife into Trout's inner thigh, causing the older man to cry out in pain and to release his grasp on Innocent. Dizzy and breathless as she was, Jean was somehow able to free herself from Trout completely. She pulled the now-besmirched knife out from Trout's leg and she carefully got off the bed, all the while pointing the blade at her would-be rapist in case he should try to run.

Innocent swayed slightly as she rose to her feet, but Hathaway caught her and managed to hold her up until she'd regained her breath. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, just a little lightheaded that's all. You…you can let go of me now, James."

The sergeant suddenly seemed to realize the true awkwardness of the situation he now found himself in. Both of his hands were wrapped firmly around Jean's shoulders—her _bare_ shoulders as her blouse was still beside Trout on the bed.

"Right…er…sorry about that." James could feel his cheeks growing hot as he removed his hands. He quickly changed the subject. " We…we should probably do something about _him._" The sergeant gestured vaguely toward the bed where Trout was still moaning in pain.

" Yeah. What did you have in mind?"

Hathaway's blush deepened. " Er…actually, I was sort of hoping you had an idea. I figure as the senior officer, you know what's best."

" I really don't think rank matters at a time like this. We're on equal footing the way I see it. Besides, I think we left procedure behind a long time ago."

The sergeant nodded his agreement. "You can say that again! But in any case, we can't leave him like this. Hurt or not, he's still dangerous. It's too bad there isn't any rope or something that we can use to tie him up."

"_Tie; _that's it, James!" He stared at her blankly. " You can use your neck tie to bind his hands."

"Ah, right. Can you…can you watch him while I do that—make sure he doesn't try anything?" Innocent nodded, and so Hathaway set to work unfastening his tie as his companion had requested.

However, before he started binding Trout's hands, the sergeant took off his jacket and wrapped it around Jean's shoulders, causing her to glance up at him curiously. "You…you looked cold," he stammered by way-of-explanation.

Innocent _was_ admittedly quivering ever-so-slightly, but it wasn't due to any chill in the room. Furthermore, the chief superintendent suspected Hathaway was just as aware of that fact as she was. "Oh, er…yes… I suppose I was. Thank you, James." She hoped he understood that she was talking about more than a piece of clothing.

"Any time," Hathaway replied before he walked back over to the bed.

Surprisingly, Trout didn't offer much resistance to having his hands bound. Instead, he focused all his attention on Innocent, piercing her with a stare so predatory that Jean felt as though _she_ was the one whose hands were tied.

The chief superintendent flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder and—tightening her grip on the knife still in her grasp—instinctively turned to face its source.

"Calm down, Jean. It's just…just me." Hathaway, who'd since finished his task and had walked over to join his companion, quickly removed his hand and took a few steps away." I didn't mean to startle you."

"Sorry, James. I'm just a bit…"

"Jumpy? That's perfectly all right; so…so am I, if I'm being perfectly honest."

If she was being totally honest with herself, she was a right bit more than merely "jumpy," but there was no way she would've admitted it—not with Trout in the room at any case. Of course, chances were very high that the man already knew how terrified she was—that he could somehow sense how rapidly her heart was pounding.

Trout had this way of looking at her that made her feel totally exposed—physically and emotionally naked. He was able to clearly see her every fear, her every insecurity, her every vulnerability—even the ones she'd managed to successfully hide from herself—and he was ready to exploit each and every one of her weaknesses, given the opportunity. He'd already made extremely good use of the few opportunities he'd been given—robbing her of husband and confidence and feelings of security.

Innocent thought she'd have been pleased, seeing Trout all trussed up and injured like that, and there _was_ a part of her that was genuinely glad that he was in such great pain. But the moment wasn't nearly as satisfying as she'd expected; it was far more unsettling than anything else.

Watching someone suffer –even someone who deserved it—would never be a pleasant experience. Revenge, sadism—these were the instincts of people like Trout, not like people like her. In spite of everything he'd done, she still didn't want his blood on her hands, and she certainly didn't want it on Hathaway's.

Jean cleared her throat and turned to James. "We…we need to… clean up his leg. That cut looks deep and he's bleeding pretty badly. We should look for a first aid kit or something."

If the sergeant was at all surprised at this request, he hid his shock astonishingly well. " One of us will need to stay with him, though."

"I can do that." He looked somewhat hesitant at the thought of leaving her alone again with Trout, so she quickly added "I'll be fine, James; I promise. You'll only be gone a few minutes, and well…" she held up the knife still in her hand, " I can take care of myself."

He gave a slight nod and then exited the room.

* * *

_There will be one final chapter, sort of an epilogue-y thing to give the story some closure and tie up a few loose ends. Not sure when exactly, it'll be up as I'm still trying to work out some of the particulars. But still, it feels good to finally have majority of the story finished—particularly as its been giving me grief for well over a year._


	22. 22: Fine

Chapter Twenty-Two—Fine

" Good God, Sergeant! Could you possibly be going any _slower?_"

Much as he disliked the man, Lewis had to admit that Harvey Malcolm had a point. If there had ever been a perfect time to violate traffic laws, that time was now—while _heaven-knew-what_ was happening to their missing fellow officers. However, Sergeant Kershaw had yet to exceed the speed limit once.

The inspector took a deep breath, reminding himself that _this_ was exactly the reason he'd insisted Adrian drive. Lewis was so worried about his friends that he doubted he'd be able to concentrate properly on the road, and he suspected that Malcolm would've been even worse off than he was. And that was the absolute _last _thing that Hathaway and Innocent needed right now.

Still, Robbie couldn't help but wish that Kershaw was going just a little bit faster. Ten or so above the speed limit never hurt anyone, and there wasn't much time—assuming there was any time left at all

Nah, he'd _know_ if it was too late. He had a sort of sixth sense when it came to James—the same sort of fatherly intuition that he had about Ken and Lyn.

However, the same wasn't true of Jean. Lewis had no way of knowing the chief superintendent's condition, much as he hoped that she also was alive and unharmed.

Innocent was clever and tough, and these traits might've been able to get her out of a tight spot. But then again, that might not be enough. Brains could only get you so far. In the end, it was luck that really mattered.

And whether she knew it or not, Innocent had one major stroke of luck going for her; Hathaway was going to do anything in his power to protect her. Chances were James would've done the same for anyone; he was like that: noble, impulsive, brave, selfless.

But this wasn't just anyone; this was someone James knew well, someone he cared about deeply. And there could be no denying that he _did_ care about her, though Robbie wasn't exactly sure in what way. He had to admit learning of the kiss had thrown him for a bit of a loop. Lewis had a feeling that his sergeant's actions could be chalked up to the fact that he'd been drunk, disoriented, and lonely at the time. The inspector highly doubted that Hathaway's true feelings toward Innocent were in fact amorous. Or at least, he strongly hoped they weren't. If they were, Lewis would have some cross words for his sergeant about professional boundaries in the near future. That was…assuming there still _was _a James with whom to have cross words and a Jean for those cross words to be about.

As he considered this, Lewis found himself instinctively reaching for his mobile and dialling a familiar phone number.

_Meanwhile…_

Hathaway returned a few minutes later with a handful of bandages and two bottles of water. He handed one to Innocent. "I couldn't find a proper first aid kit, but I figured if we could only clean the wound and bandage it, that would make a difference. I brought two bottles, because I figured you must be thirsty."

" Thank you, James."

For a moment, Hathaway looked as though he was going to say something in response, but he closed his mouth almost immediately after opening it.

She wondered then if the sergeant had overheard any of her conversation with Trout—the things she'd always wanted to say to the man who'd made her life hell for the past fifteen years but had never had an opportunity to say until now. The thought that Hathaway might have heard her cathartic outburst was admittedly embarrassing, but not embarrassing enough to make Innocent regret giving it. She'd finally had a chance to look her greatest fear in the eye and realize that—as sadistic and terrifying as he was—Trout was only a man when all was said and done.

The chief superintendent sat down on the floor and placed the knife in her lap. She unscrewed the lid of the water bottle, carefully moved it up to her lips, and didn't set it down again until it was empty.

Shortly afterwards, James, having finished tending to Trout's leg, plopped down on the floor beside her. "Now what?"

"I dunno. We should probably call for back-up or something. Of course, it would help if we actually had our phones with us."  
No sooner had she said that than they heard a loud ringing sound. It took Hathaway a moment to identify the source of the noise. He removed both his own and Innocent's mobiles from Trout's trouser pocket.

It was Hathaway's phone that had rung apparently. The sergeant brought his mobile up to his ear and began speaking.

Innocent immediately gathered from Hathaway's suddenly-relaxed body language that the speaker was Lewis.

" God, it's good to hear your voice…Oh, you too?... that's wonderful…Yeah…Okay, I suppose. …I'll explain when you get here; it's kind of a long story…Yes, Jean's fi—er…Jean's here."

No, she wasn't "fine," was she. Physically unharmed, yes. Present in body if not in mind, yes. But _fine?_

It would be a long time before she'd be "fine" again in any sense of the word. Still, things weren't all bad. She was alive and relatively unhurt, as was James. And from the sound of things, help was on its way. Small comforts admittedly, but still signs that indicated that all was not lost after all.

_Two days later_

They stood beside each other, watching through the glass as Lewis interrogated Trout—or _tried_ to anyway. The inspector had been attempting for almost two hours already, ever since Trout had been released from the hospital's care and formally taken into custody. Unfortunately, the other man hadn't been doing much cooperating, which annoyed James greatly—though it didn't much surprise him.

" I thought that this would be enough—knowing that he's been caught and that this is finally over," Innocent said finally—more to herself than to Hathaway. "But this isn't enough, because it isn't over. I'm not sure it ever will be. If he can come back into my life just when I felt safer and happier than I've ever been… well, who's… who's to say he won't do it again? That he won't find me again someday and finish what he started?"

Of its own accord, Hathaway's arm looped itself around her shoulder, and she didn't resist. In fact, he wasn't completely sure she'd even noticed at all.

When he returned his gaze to her face, he saw it again—the same vague, haunted expression in her eyes that he'd first seen in Trout's basements. The fear had been especially poignant, because it had been so unexpected. Jean Innocent didn't frighten easily; in fact this whole experience with Trout was the first time, Innocent had even exhibited such an emotion in front of Hathaway. He'd seen her worried, of course, and frustrated and anxious, and angry, but never _scared._ It didn't suit her at all. She'd always seemed to be mature, so composed—certainly much more so than Hathaway. Yet when that look of panic had crossed her face, she had instantly lost any sophistication she might have possessed and had become a small, frightened child once again.

"He won't, Jean."

"That's all very easy for you to say, "she sighed, "but convincing _myself _of that is another matter entirely. Especially now after John's dea-after all that's happened…"

He heard the falter in her voice, and looked over to see moisture welling up in her eyes. He carefully guided her head onto his shoulder, where she proceeded to dampen his jacket with her tears as he lightly stroked her hair with one hand. Eventually, she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, James."

"It's fine. This hellish week would've taken its toll on any sane person."

" It's not just that. I'm…I'm sorry for getting you involved with my mess."

"You didn't 'get me involved.' I made my own decision, and I stand by it."

The sergeant wasn't naïve; he was sure there'd be consequences. He knew he was going to get dragged through the mud during the trial. If Trout decided to plead "not guilty," the defense was going to need a scapegoat, and Hathaway's rash behavior would make him an ideal candidate. And if Trout somehow got off, there was also very real chance that James might be facing assault charges and/or a serious lawsuit in the near future.

However all this still didn't change the fact that Hathaway wouldn't have hesitated to do it again—if that was what it took to keep her safe. For reasons James didn't fully understand, Jean brought each and every one of his protective instincts to the forefront. It wasn't that he was in love with her—at least, he didn't think he was. Time alone would tell whether the kiss had merely been a moment of confused thinking or his subconscious trying to tell him something.

But whether his feelings were romantic, platonic, or something-in-between, she was still a friend, and James Hathaway always took care of his friends.

After a long silence, he spoke again. "Lewis is coming over to my place tonight, and er…Hobson might come too. We were planning on ordering pizza, and Robbie was going to bring over his John Wayne DVD collection. I…I don't know if this is really your sort of thing, but if you wanted to come, you'd be welcome."

She smiled then, and Hathaway reflected briefly upon how much he'd missed that smile over the past few days. "I'd like that. Thank you, James."

" Any time."

THE END

_Author's Note: This was the first fanfiction I attempted writing, and it's taken me nearly a year-and-a-half to finish. I'd like to think that it shows my growth as a writer, but I'm not really sure. What I __**do**__ know is that despite incredibly long bouts of writer's block and frequent moments where I loathed everything about the story and wished I'd never started it, I always came back, however belatedly and reluctantly. So, though I simultaneously love and hate this story, it will always be special to me._

_ Thank you to everyone who's read/reviewed/favorite/alerted at any point during this long process. An especial thanks goes to prosfan for being one of this story's greatest inspirations and advocates. I definitely wouldn't have made it this far without her help and enthusiasm._

_ And now, it's time to celebrate, cause I've finally got the damned thing finished!_


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